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THE  ESSAYS  OF  ABRAHAM  COWLEY. 


MS^ 


"Cowley's  Prose  stamps  him  as  a  man  of  genius  and  an 
improver  of  the  English  Language." 

Thomas  Campbell. 


THE    ESSAYS    OF 

CA BRA  HAM    COWLEY. 

WITH    LIFE    BY    THE 

EDITOR. 

NOTES,  AND   ILLUSTRATIONS   BY  UR.   HURD, 
AND    OTHERS. 


ScconU  ffiHUton. 

NEW  YORK: 

SCRIBNER,  WELFORD,  AND   CO. 

1869. 


CHISWICK    press:  — PRINTED  BY   WHITTINOHAM    AND   WILKINS  , 
TUOKS  COURT,  CHANCERY    LANE. 


CONTENTS. 


Page 


Essay,  Ixtroductory  A^•D  Biographical          .        .        .        .  vii 

Essay 

I.   Of  Liberty 1 

II.    Of  Solitude       ...                 24 

III.  Of  Obscurity 32 

IV.  Of  Agriculture         ...                .                 ...  33 

V.   The  Garden 65 

VI.   Of  Greatness ,                 .        .  76 

VII.   Of  Avarice SS 

VIII.   The  Dangers  of  an  Honest  Man  in  much  Company       .  97 

IX.    The  Shortness  of  Life,  and  Uncertainty  of  Riches         .  106 

X.  The  Danger  of  Procrastination 112 

XI.  Of  Myself 118 

XII.  A  Discourse,  by  way  of  Vision,  concerning  the  Government 

of  Oliver  Cromwell 130 

The  ^Author's  Preface  to  Cutter  of  Coleman  Street  .        .        .177 

A  Proposition  for  the  Advancement  of  Experimental  Philosophy  .  185 


2045755 


ESSAY,    INTRODUCTORY    AXD 
BIOGRAPHICAL. 


|HEX  Abraham  Cowley  was  buried  in  "West- 
minster Abbey,  near  Chaucer  and  Spenser, 
King  Charles  II.  pronounced  oracularly, 
"  That  Mr.  Cowley  had  not  left  behind  him 
a  better  man  in  England."  The  posthumous  praise  of 
princes  is,  we  must  remember,  one  way  of  paying  their 
debts ;  and  as  Cowley  had  acted  as  secretary  to  either 
Charles,  and  had  been  so  trusted  that  he  wrote  much  of 
their  correspondence  in  cypher,  and  was  rewarded 
slenderly,  if  at  all,  we  may  believe  that  with  the  king 
such  excessive  praise  was  natural.  This  was  in  1667  ; 
and  Cowley  had  died  at  the  Porch  House  in  Chertsey, 
in  the  forty-ninth  year  of  his  age,  leaving  behind  him, 
as  we  know,  both  better  men  and  better  poets. 

It  is  in  writing  his  life  that  Doctor  Johnson  com- 
plains of  the  penury  of  English  biography,  and  does,  one 
must  confess,  very  little  to  enrich  it.  He  tells  us  that 
"  Cowley's  father  was  a  grocer,  whose  condition  Dr. 
Sprat  conceals  under  the  general  appellation  of  a 
b 


viii  ESSAY,    INTRODUCTORY 

citizen  :"  from  the  omission  of  his  name  in  St.  Duustan's 
register,  it  was  supposed  that  this  citizen  father  was  a 
sectary.  Whatever  he  was,  he  died  before  his  celebrated 
son  was  born ;  and  it  is  to  his  mother,  who  lived  to  a 
great  age,  and  rejoiced  in  her  son's  fame,  that  Cowley 
owed  his  education  and  position.  In  that  mother's 
window  lay  a  volume  of  Spenser,  and  reading  this  he 
became  "  irrecoverably  a  poet,"  as  he  himself  relates. 
He  was  admitted  into  Westminster  School,  hated  gram- 
mar, so  that  he  never  mastered  or  retained  its  ordinary 
rules ;  wrote  "  The  Tragical  History  of  Pyramus  and 
Thisbe,"  when  he  was  ten  years  old,  and  another  poem 
when  he  was  twelve.  While  yet  at  school  he  produced 
a  comedy,  "  Love's  Riddle,"  but  these  "  learned  puer- 
ilities," says  the  Doctor,  "  added  little  to  the  wonders  of 
Cowley's  minority." 

In  1636,  Cowley  went  to  Cambridge,  wrote  part  of  the 
"  Davideis,"  and  a  Latin  play,  the  "  Naufragium  Jocu- 
lare  ;"  and,  as  Prince  Charles,  at  the  beginning  of  the  Civil 
War,  passed  through  Cambridge  on  his  way  to  York,  he 
was  entertained  by  the  comedy  of  the  "  Guardian," 
"rough-drawn"  by  Cowley,  and  repeated  by  the  stu- 
dents. The  attention  or  even  the  attendance  of  the 
prince  was  enough  to  make  the  young  poet  a  royalist, 
and  in  1643,  he,  being  then  a  Master  of  Arts,  was,  by 
the  prevalence  of  the  Parliament,  ejected  from  Cam- 
bridge, and  soon  after  followed  the  queen  to  Paris, 
where  he  became  secretary  to  Lord  Jermyn,  and  was 
employed  "  in  cyphering  and  deciphering  the  letters  that 
passed  between  the  king  and  queen,  an  employment  of 


AXD    BIOGRAPHICAL.  ix 

the  highest  confidence  and  honour.  So  wide  was  his 
province  of  intelligence,"  adds  his  biographer,  "  that  it 
filled  all  his  days,  and  two  or  three  nights  in  the  week." 

Hard  as  he  worked,  and  useful  as  he  was,  he  seems  to 
have  been  merely  used  just  so  long  as  he  was  useful, 
and  during  the  whole  of  that  time  to  have  longed  for 
leisure  and  retirement.  In  1656  he  was  sent  to  Eng- 
land under  pretence  of  seeking  this  retirement,  but  in 
reality  to  be  useful  as  a  spy.  Being  seized  instead  of 
another  man,  he  was  not  released  until  he  found  security 
of  £1000,  a  heavy  sum  in  those  days,  which  he  could  not 
pay,  and  which  was  found  for  him  by  Dr.  Scarborough. 
In  the  same  year  he  published  his  poems,  declaring  in 
the  preface,  "  that  his  desire  had  been  for  some  time 
past,  and  did  even  now  vehemently  continue,  to  retire 
himself  to  some  of  the  American  plantations,  and  to  for- 
sake this  world  for  ever." 

This  desire,  of  which  Johnson  speaks  far  too  severely, 
saying,  "  If  his  activity  was  virtue,  his  retreat  was 
cowardice,"  was  natural  enough.  His  essays  will  tell  us 
how  he  loved  retirement ;  he  was  sick  of  courts  and 
courtly  ingratitude  ;  and  when  he  returned  to  his  own 
country,  had  stepped  into  a  prison.  He  was  obliged  to 
obtain  an  order  to  be  created  doctor  of  physic,  and  to 
practise  to  gain  a  subsistence,  and  thereby  irritated 
some  of  his  friends.  He  went  into  France  again,  "having," 
says  Johnson  quaintly,  "made  a  copy  of  verses  on 
Oliver's  death."  The  truth  seems  to  be  that  Cowley 
really  did  admire  Cromwell.  His  bond  of  security  was 
never  cancelled,  and  in  France,  perhaps,  he  acted  coldly 


X  ESSAY,    INTRODUCTORY 

to  the  king's  party,  though  he  remained  there  till  the 
general  delivery  at  the  Restoration.  He  had  been  made 
a  Doctor  of  Physic  at  Oxford  in  1657,  and  at  the  com- 
mencement of  the  Royal  Society  he  appears  busy  among 
the  experimental  philosophers  with  the  title  of  Dr. 
Cowley.  He  fitted  himself  for  practice  by  an  extensive 
study  of  botany,  and  with  questionable  taste  tried  to 
display  the  qualities  of  herbs  in  elegiac  verse,  and  the 
uses  of  trees  in  heroic  numbers. 

At  the  Restoration,  Cowley  raised  a  song  of  triumph. 
He  had  been  promised  by  both  Charles  I.  and  II.  the 
Mastership  of  the  Savoy  ;  but  kings'  words  were  then 
worth  little,  and  Anthony  Wood  tells  us,  "  he  lost  it  by 
certain  persons,  enemies  to  the  muses."  He  fitted  up 
his  old  comedy,  the  Guardian,  as  a  new  piece,  "  Cutter 
of  Coleman  Street."^  This  was  considered  as  a  satire 
on  the  Royalists,  and  condemned.  Dryden  went  with 
Sprat  to  the  first  night,  and  told  Dennis  the  critic  that 
when  Cowley  was  told  of  his  ill-success,  "  he  received 
the  news  not  with  so  much  firmness  as  might  have  been 
expected  of  so  great  a  man." 

No  wonder ;  ingratitude  and  neglect  do  not  render 
every  susceptible  poet  stronger.  He  tells  us  in  his  de- 
fence, "  that  having  followed  the  royal  family  through  all 
their  distresses,  it  was  not  then  likely  at  the  Restoration 

'  Dr.  Johnson  calls  it  The  Cutter  of  Coleman  Street,  but  the 
play  is  without  the  article.  "  A  merry  sharking  fellow,"  one, 
Cutter,  is  the  chief  person  in  the  comedy  which  brought  him 
into  trouble ;  hence  the  vindication  which  we  print  amongst  his 
prose  works. — Ed. 


AXD    BIOGBAPHICAL.  x 

that  he  should  begin  a  (juarrel  with  them."  They  quar- 
relled with  him,  and  he  felt  it,  that  much  is  certain  ;  he 
wrote  a  poem  called  the  "  Complaint,"  wherein  he  calls 
himself  the  melancholy  Cowley,  and  this,  with  the  UHual 
fortune  of  complaints,  seems  to  have  excited  more  con- 
tempt than  pity.  Certain  loyalist  poets  twitted  hira 
with  this  in  doggerel  verse,  which  shows  plainly  enough 
the  suspicion  whereon  Cowley's  misfortunes  are  to  be 
laid.     The  verses  are  on  the  choice  of  a  Laureate  : — 

Savoij-missing  Cowley  came  iuto  the  courtj 

Making  apologies  for  his  bad  play  ; 
Every  one  gave  him  so  good  a  report, 

That  Apollo  gave  heed  to  all  he  could  say : 

Nor  would  he  have  had,  'tis  thought,  a  rebuke, 
Unless  he  had  done  some  notable  folly ; 

With  verses  unjustly  in  praise  of  Sam  Tuke,^ 
Or  printed  his  pitiful  melancholy. 

Authors  generally  receive  their  worst  wounds  from 
those  of  their  own  craft ;  and  Cowley,  no  doubt,  felt 
these  bitterly.  Xo  wonder,  then,  that,  as  Johnson 
sneeringly  says,  and  throughout  the  Dr.  has  a  strong 
bias  against  the  poet,  "  his  vehement  desire  of  retire- 
ment now  came  again  upon  him."  Johnson  even  finds 
fault  with  Anthony  "Wood  (calling  him  the  morose 
Wood)  for  the  mild  reproval  expressed  in  this  true  sen- 
tence, "  Not  finding  that  preferment  conferred  upon  him 

^  Sir  Samuel  Tuke  was  the  original  whence  Butler  caricatured 
Hudibras;  but  here  one  is  tempted  to  think  that  the  name 
stands  for  "  Noll  Cromwell." 


xii  ESSAF,    INTRODUCTORY 

which  he  expected,'^  while  others  for  their  money  carried 
away  most  places,  he  retired  discontented  into  Surrey." 
It  is  well  to  chronicle  that,  by  the  interest  of  two 
noblemen,  the  poor  poet,  nearly,  we  may  infer,  reduced 
to  beggary,  obtained  a  lease  of  the  queen's  lands,  which 
afforded  him  an  income ;  and  first  at  Barn  elms,  and 
afterwards  at  Chertsey,  he  wrought  amongst  his  farm- 
men.  "Here,"  asks  Johnson,  "was  he  contented?" 
Well,  not  quite  so,  nor  was  it  likely.  "  I  can  get  no 
money,"  wrote  Cowley  to  Dr.  Sprat,  "  from  my  tenants, 
and  my  meadows  are  eaten  up  every  night  by  cattle,  put 
in  by  my  neighbours.  What  this  signifies  or  may  come 
to  in  time  God  knows ;  if  it  be  ominous,  it  can  end  in 
nothing  else  than  hanging.'''  As  the  crime  could  hardly 
lead  to  the  hanging  of  others,  we  must  sadly  infer  here 
that  Cowley  hints  at  suicide — a  sad  enough  result  of 
neglect,  even  if  only  jocosely  foreshadowed.  But  he  did 
not  long  suffer  from  these  perturbations ;  for,  having 
overheated  himself  by  labouring  amongst  his  workmen, 
"  he  was  taken,"  says  his  first  gentle  biographer,  "  with  a 
defluxion  and  a  stoppage  in  his  throat,  which  at  first  he 
neglected,  but  which  in  a  fortnight  proved  fatal  to  him. 
Long  kept  in  perturbation,  worn  out  by  disappoint- 
ment : — 

"  On  long  hopes,  the  court's  thin  diet,  fed." 

Cowley  died  at  the  Porch  House,  Chertsey,  in  the 


'  And  which  he  had  earned,  and   was   most  ungratefully 
denied  to  him. — Ed. 


AXD   BIOGRAPHICAL.  xiii 

forty-ninth  year  of  his  age,  and  his  last  request  to  his 
literary  executor  was  to  excise  from  his  works  any  word 
or  expression  that  might  seem  to  give  "  the  least  oifence 
to  religion  or  to  good  manners." 

When  he  died  all  England  awoke  to  his  worth  ;  he  was 
buried  as  we  have  related ;  the  king  pronounced  his 
pretty  eulogium,  paying  back  long  services  with  a  short 
sentence ;  and  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  was  at  the 
expense  of  his  tomb. 

Of  his  poetry  we  will  here  say  little  ;  the  fashion  of  it 
has  quite  gone  by ;  and  Johnson  has  an  acute  sentence 
which  suggests  the  i^eason.  "  If,"  he  writes,  "  the  father 
of  criticism  has  rightly  denominated  poetry  TiyiT) 
jiiifjiriTii'Ct),  an  imitative  art,  these  writers  will,  without 
great  wrong,  lose  their  name  of  poets ;  for  they  cannot 
be  said  to  have  imitated  anything ;  they  neither  copied 
nature  nor  life  ;  neither  painted  the  forms  of  matter,  nor 
represented  the  operations  of  intellect."  So  it  was  that, 
even  in  Pope's  time,  Cowley  had  ceased  to  be  read  as  a 
poet. 

Who  now  reads  Cowley  ?    If  he  pleases  yet. 
His  moral  pleases,  not  his  pointed  wit : 
Forgot  his  epic,  nay,  Pindaric  art. 
But  still  I  love  the  language  of  his  heart. 

His  "poetry"  is  full  of  gross  conceits  almost  as  exag- 
gerated as  those  in  our  modern  burlesque  rhyme  ;  thus, 
of  the  stone  with  which  Cain  slew  his  brother,  he 
writes : — 

I  saw  him  fling  the  stone,  as  if  he  meant, 
At  once  his  murther  and  his  monument. 


xiv  INTRODUCTORY  ESSAY. 

And  of  the  sword  taken  from  Goliath,  he  says  : — 

A  sword  so  great,  that  it  was  only  fit 
To  cut  off  his  great  head  that  came  with  it 

But  we  need  not  linger  over  these.  Cowley  was  a 
fair  scholar,  a  ripe,  thoughtful  man  ;  and  the  faults  of  his 
Muse  arose  from  the  fashion  of  the  times.  He  was,  in 
fact,  not  strong  enough  as  a  poet  to  lift  himself  beyond 
them. 

His  prose  is  a  far  different  thing,— clear,  manly,  ten- 
der, and  nervous.  "No  author,"  says  Dr.  Johnson, 
"  ever  kept  his  verse  and  his  prose  at  a  greater  distance 
from  each  other.  His  thoughts  are  natural,  and  his 
style  has  a  smooth  placid  equability  which  has  never  yet 
obtained  its  due  commendation.  Nothing  is  far  sought, 
or  hard  laboured  ;  but  all  is  easy  without  feebleness,  and 
familiar  without  grossness." 

As  a  poet  his  greatest  praise  is  that  he  could  now  and 
then  write  the  heroic  couplet  so  well,  that  Milton  read 
him  and  condescended  to  imitate  him ;  as  a  prose  writer, 
he  stands  as  one  of  the  earliest,  purest,  and  most  manly 
of  our  essayists  ;  who  has  offered  to  the  thoughtful 
reader  of  this,  as  well  as  of  his  own  age,  pages  of  con- 
solation, learned  amusement,  and  philosophic  advice, 
which  the  world  will  not  willingly  let  die. 


^ 


COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 


OF    LIBERTY. 


HE  liberty  of  a  people  consists  in  being 
governed  by  laws  which  they  have  made  them- 
selves, under  whatsoever  form  it  be  of  go- 
vernment : '  the  liberty  of  a  private  man,  in 
being  master  of  his  own  time  and  actions,  as  far  as  may 
consist  with  the  laws  of  God,  and  of  his  countrey.  Of 
this  latter,  only,  we  are  here  to  discourse,  and  to  enquire 


'  Cowley,  although  a  royalist,  has  almost  a  wider  notion  of 
liberty  than  Milton  the  Republican,  also  a  Cambridge  scholar, 
at  least  if  we  judge  from  the  fragment  of  Euripides  which  Milton 
translated  and  printed  as  embodying  his  own  opinion : — 

This  is  true  liberty,  when  free-born  men, 
Having  to  advise  the  public,  may  speak  free ; 
Which  he  who  can  and  will  desex-ves  high  praise. 

In  free  speech  and  its  results  is  Milton's  conception  of  political 
liberty ;  in  living  under  laws  which  men  have  made  themselves, 
Cowley's.  The  author  wrote  this  essay  in  retirement,  after 
suffering  the  ingratitude  of  Charles  II.  and  being  refused  the 
Mastership  of  the  Savoy. 


2  COWLEY'S   ESSAYS. 

what  estate  of  life  does  best  seat  us  in  the  possession  of 
it.  This  liberty  of  our  own  actions  is  such  a  funda- 
mental privilege  of,  human  nature,  that  God  himself, 
notwithstanding  all  his  infinite  power  and  right  over  us, 
permits  us  to  enjoy  it,  and  that  too  after  a  forfeiture 
made  by  the  rebellion  of  Adam.  He  takes  so  much 
care  for  the  intire  preservation  of  it  to  us,  that  he  suffers 
neither  his  providence  nor  eternal  decree  to  break  or 
infringe  it.  Now  for  our  time,  the  same  God,  to  whom 
we  are  but  tenants-at-will  for  the  whole,  requires  but 
the  seventh  part  to  be  paid  to  him  as  a  small  quit-rent 
in  acknowledgement  of  his  title.  It  is  man  only  that 
has  the  impudence  to  demand  our  whole  time,"  though 
he  neither  gave  it,  nor  can  restore  it,  nor  is  able  to  pay 
any  considerable  value  for  the  least  part  of  it.  This 
birth-right  of  mankind  above  all  other  creatures,  some 
are  forced  by  hunger  to  sell,  like  Esau,  for  bread  and 
broth :  but  the  greatest  part  of  men  make  such  a  bar- 
gain for  the  delivery- up  of  themselves,  as  Thamar  did 
for  Judah  ;  instead  of  a  kid,  the  necessary  provisions  for 
human  life,  they  are  contented  to  do  it  for  rings  and 
bracelets.  The  great  dealers  in  this  world  may  be  di- 
vided into  the  ambitious,  the  covetous,  and  the  volup- 
tuous ;  and  that  all  these  men  sell  themselves  to  be 
slaves,  though  to  the  vulgar  it  may  seem  a  Stoical  para- 
dox, will  appear  to  the  wise  so  plain  and  obvious,  that 
they  will  scarce  think  it  deserves  the  labour  of  argu- 
mentation. 

Let  us  first  consider  the  ambitious ;  and  those,  both 
in  their  progress  to  greatness,  and  after  the  attaining 

^  Co-wley  had  spent  not  only  days,  but  days  and  nights  too, 
in  cyphering  and  decyphering  the  secret  correspondence  to 
and  from  Charles  and  his  Queen  and  adherents  j  with  what 
reward  for  hard  work  and  fidelity,  we  know. 


OF   LIBERTY.  3 

of  it.  There  is  nothing  truer  than  what  Sallust  says, 
"  Dominationis  in  alios  servitium  suum  mercedem 
dant : "  they  are  content  to  pay  so  great  a  price  as 
their  own  servitude,  to  purchase  the  domination  over 
others.  The  first  thing  they  must  resolve  to  sacrifice 
is  their  whole  time ;  they  must  never  stop,  nor  ever 
turn  aside  whilst  they  are  in  the  race  of  glory,  no  not 
like  Atalanta  for  golden  apples.  Neither,  indeed,  can 
a  man  stop  himself  if  he  would,  when  he  is  in  this 
career : 

Fertur  equis  auriga,  neque  audit  currus  habenas.'* 

Pray,  let  us  but  consider  a  little,  what  mean  servile 
things  men  do  for  this  imaginary  food.  We  cannot 
fetch  a  greater  example  of  it,  than  from  the  chief  men 
of  that  nation  which  boasted  most  of  liberty.  To  what 
pitiful  baseness  did  the  noblest  Romans  submit  them- 
selves, for  the  obtaining  a  prcetorship,  or  the  consular 
dignity  !  They  put  on  the  habit  of  suppliants,  and  ran 
about  on  foot,  and  in  dirt,  through  all  the  tribes,  to  beg 
voices  ;  they  flattered  the  poorest  artisans  ;  and  carried 
a  nomenclator  with  them,  to  whisper  in  their  ear  every 
man's  name,  lest  they  should  mistake  it  in  their  salu- 
tations ;  they  shook  the  hand,  and  kissed  the  cheek, 
of  every  popular  tradesman  ;  they  stood  all  day  at  every 
market  in  the  public  places,  to  shew  and  ingratiate  them- 
selves to  the  rout ;  they  employed  all  their  friends  to 
solicit  for  them ;  they  kept  open  tables  in  every  street ; 
they  distributed  wine,  and  bread,  and  money,  even  to 
the  vilest  of  the  people.     "  En  Romanes  rerum  domi- 


^  Fragment  ed.  Mattaire,  p.  116. 

*  Virgil,  Georg.  i.  514. — [The  chariot  is  borne  onwards  by 
the  horses,  nor  does  the  wbeei  give  heed  to  the  reins.] 


4  COWLEY'S   ESSAYS. 

nos  !"^  Behold  the  masters  of  the  world  begging  from 
door  to  door.  This  particular  humble  way  to  greatness 
is  now  out  of  fashion  ;  but  yet  every  ambitious  person 
is  still,  in  some  sort,  a  Eoman  candidate.  He  must  feast 
and  bribe,  and  attend  and  flatter,  and  adore  many  beasts, 
though  not  the  beast  with  many  heads.  Catiline,  who 
was  so  proud  that  he  could  not  content  himself  with  a 
less  power  than  Sylla's,  was  yet  so  humble  for  the 
attaining  of  it,  as  to  make  himself  the  most  contemptible 
of  all  servants,  to  be  a  public  bawd,  to  provide  whores, 
and  something  worse,  for  all  the  young  gentlemen  of 
Rome,  whose  hot  lusts,  and  courages,  and  heads,  he 
thought  he  might  make  use  of.  And,  since  I  happen 
here  to  propose  Catiline  for  my  instance  (though  there 
be  thousand  of  examples  for  the  same  thing,)  give  me 
leave  to  transcribe  the  character  which  Cicero  gives  of 
this  noble  slave,''  because  it  is  a  general  description  of 
all  ambitious  men,  and  which  Machiavel,  perhaps,  would 
say  ought  to  be  the  rule  of  their  life  and  actions  : 

"  This  man  (says  he,  as  most  of  you  may  well  re- 
member) had  many  artificial  touches  and  strokes,  that 
looked  like  the  beauty  of  great  virtues ;  his  intimate 
conversation  was  with  the  worst  of  men,  and  yet  he 
seemed  to  be  an  admirer  and  lover  of  the  best ;  he  was 
furnished  with  all  the  nets  of  lust  and  luxury,  and  yet 
wanted  not  the  arms  of  labour  and  industry :  neither 
do  I  believe  that  there  was  ever  any  monster  in  nature, 
composed  out  of  so  many  different  and  disagreeing  parts. 
Who  more  acceptable,  sometimes,  to  the  most  honour- 

5  Virgil,  ^n.  i.  282  :— 

fovebit 
Romanes  rerum  dominos,  geutenique  togatam. 

^  Cicero,  Orat.  pro  M.  Ccelio. 


OF   LIBERTY.  5 

able  persons;  who  more  a  favourite  to  the  most  infa- 
mous ?  who,  sometimes,  appeared  a  braver  champion  ; 
who,  at  other  times,  a  bolder  enemy  to  his  countrey  ? 
who  more  dissolute  in  his  pleasures ;  who  more  patient 
in  his  toils  ?  who  more  rapacious  in  robbing ;  who  more 
profuse  in  giving  ?  Above  all  things,  this  was  remark- 
able and  admirable  in  him,  the  arts  he  had  to  acquire 
the  good  opinion  and  kindness  of  all  sorts  of  men,  to 
retain  it  with  great  complaisance,  to  communicate  all 
things  to  them,  to  watch  and  serve  all  the  occasions  of 
their  fortune,  both  with  his  money  and  his  interest,  and 
his  industry ;  and,  if  need  were,  not  by  sticking  at  any 
wickedness  whatsoever  that  might  be  useful  to  them,  to 
bend  and  turn  about  his  own  nature  and  laveer  with 
every  wind ;  to  live  severely  with  the  melancholy,  mer- 
rily with  the  pleasant,  gravely  with  the  aged,  wantonly 
with  the  young,  desperately  with  the  bold,  and  de- 
bauchedly  with  the  luxurious  :  with  this  variety  and 
multiplicity  of  his  nature — as  he  had  made  a  collection 
of  friendships  with  all  the  most  wicked  and  reckless  of 
all  nations  ;  so,  by  the  artificial  simulation  of  some 
virtues,  he  made  a  shift  to  ensnare  some  honest  and 
eminent  persons  into  his  familiarity.  Neither  could  so 
vast  a  design  as  the  destruction  of  this  empire  have 
been  undertaken  by  him,  if  the  immanity  of  so  many 
vices  had  not  been  covered  and  disguised  by  the  appear- 
ances of  some  excellent  qualities." 

I  see,  methinks,  the  character  of  an  Anti-Paul,  "  who 
became  all  things  to  all  men,"  that  he  might  destroy 
all ;  who  only  wanted  the  assistance  of  fortune,  to  have 
been  as  great  as  his  friend  Caesar  was  a  little  after  him. 
And  the  ways  of  Caesar  to  compass  the  same  ends 
(I  mean  till  the  civil  war,  which  was  but  another  man- 
ner of  setting  his   countrey  on  fire)   were  not  unlike 


6  COWLEY'S   ESSAYS. 

these,  though  he  used,  afterward,  his  unjust  dominion 
with  more  moderation,  than  I  think  the  other  would  have 
done.  Sallust,  therefore,  who  was  well  acquainted  with 
them  both,  and  with  many  such  like  gentlemen  of  his 
time,  says,  "  that  it  is  the  nature  of  ambition,  to  make 
men  liars  and  cheaters,  to  hide  the  truth  in  their 
breasts,  and  shew,  like  jugglers,  another  thing  in  their 
mouths,  to  cut  all  friendships  and  enmities  to  the  mea- 
sure of  their  own  interest,  and  to  make  a  good  coun- 
tenance without  the  help  of  a  good  will."'  And  can 
there  be  freedom  with  this  perpetual  constraint  ?  what 
is  it  but  a  kind  of  rack,  that  forces  men  to  say  what 
they  have  no  mind  to  ? 

I  have  wondered  at  the  extravagant  and  barbarous 
stratagem  of  Zopirus,  and  more  at  the  praises  which 
I  find  of  so  deformed  an  action ;  who,  though  he  was 
one  of  the  seven  grandees  of  Persia,  and  the  son  of 
Megabises,  who  had  freed,  before,  his  countrey  from  an 
ignoble  servitude,  slit  his  own  nose  and  lips,  cut  off  his 
own  ears,  scourged  and  wounded  his  whole  body,  that 
he  might,  under  pretence  of  having  been  mangled  so 
inhumanly  by  Darius,  be  received  into  Babylon  (then 
besieged  by  the  Persians,)  and  get  into  the  command 
of  it  by  the  recommendation  of  so  cruel  a  sufferance, 
and  their  hopes  of  his  endeavouring  to  revenge  it.  It 
is  great  pity,  the  Babylonians  suspected  not  his  false- 
hood, that  they  might  have  cut  off  his  hands  too,  and 
whipt  him  back  again.  But  the  design  succeeded  ;  he 
betrayed  the  city,  and  was  made  governor  of  it.  What 
brutish  master  ever  punished  his  offending  slave  with 
so  little  mercy,  as  ambition  did  this  Zopirus  ?  and  yet 
how  many  are  there,  in  all  nations,  who  imitate  him  in 

'  Sallust,  De  Bell.  Catil.  c.  x. 


OF  LIBERTY.  7 

some  degree  for  a  less  reward ;  who,  though  they  endure 
not  so  much  corporal  pain  for  a  small  preferment  or 
some  honour  (as  they  call  it,)  yet  stick  not  to  commit 
actions,  by  which  they  are  more  shamefully  and  more 
lastingly  stigmatized  !  But  you  may  say,  though  these 
be  the  most  ordinary  and  open  ways  to  greatness,  yet 
there  are  narrow,  thorny,  and  little-trodden  paths  too, 
through  which  some  men  find  a  passage  by  virtuous 
industry.  I  grant,  sometimes  they  may  ;  but  then,  that 
industry  must  be  such,  as  cannot  consist  with  liberty, 
though  it  may  with  honesty. 

Thou  art  careful,  frugal,  painful ;  we  commend  a 
servant  so,  but  not  a  friend. 

Well  then,  we  must  acknowledge  the  toil  and 
drudgery  which  we  are  forced  to  endure  in  this  ascent ; 
but  we  are  epicures  and  lords  when  once  we  are  gotten 
up  into  the  high  places.  This  is  but  a  short  appren- 
ticeship, after  which  we  are  made  free  of  a  royal  com- 
pany. If  we  fall  in  love  with  any  beauteous  women, 
we  must  be  content  that  they  should  be  our  mistresses 
whilst  we  woo  them ;  as  soon  as  we  are  wedded  and 
enjoy,  it  is  we  shall  be  the  masters. 

I  am  willing  to  stick  to  this  similitude  in  the  case 
of  greatness  :  we  enter  into  the  bonds  of  it,  like  those 
of  matrimony ;  we  are  bewitched  with  the  outward 
and  painted  beauty,  and  take  it  for  better  or  worse, 
before  we  know  its  true  nature  and  interior  incon- 
veniences. A  great  fortune  (says  Seneca)  is  a  great 
servitude  ;  but  many  are  of  that  opinion  which  Brutus 
imputes  (I  hope  untruly)^  even  to  that  patron  of  liberty, 


^  Bishop  Hurd  says,  that  this  parenthesis  "  I  hope  untruly  " 
did  honour  to  Cowley's  candour  as  well  as  his  sense,  and  he 
defends  Cicero  from   the  imputation  of  thinking  that  death, 


8  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 

his  friend  Cicero  :  "  We  fear  (says  he  to  Atticus)  death, 
and  banishment,  and  poverty,  a  great  deal  too  much. 
Cicero,  I  am  afraid,  thinks  these  to  be  the  worst  of 
evils  ;  and  if  he  have  but  some  persons,  from  whom  he 
can  obtain  what  he  has  a  mind  to,  and  others  who  will 
flatter  and  worship  him,  seems  to  be  well  enough  con- 
tented with  an  honourable  servitude,  if  any  thing,  indeed, 
ought  to  be  called  honourable  in  so  base  and  contume- 
lious a  condition."  This  was  spoken  as  became  the 
bravest  man  who  was  ever  born  in  the  bravest  common- 
wealth. But  with  us,  generally,  no  condition  passes 
for  servitude,  that  is  accompanied  with  great  riches, 
with  honours,  and  with  the  service  of  many  inferiors. 
This  is  but  a  deception  of  the  sight  through  a  false 
medium ;  for  if  a  groom  serve  a  gentleman  in  his 
chamber,  that  gentleman  a  lord,  and  that  lord  a  prince ; 
the  groom,  the  gentleman,  and  the  lord,  are  as  much 
servants  one  as  the  other :  the  circumstantial  difference 
of  the  one's  getting  only  his  bread  and  wages,  the  second 
a  plentiful,  and  the  third  a  superfluous  estate,  is  no 
more  intrinsical  to  this  matter,  than  the  difierence  be- 
tween a  plain,  a  rich,  and  gaudy  livery.  I  do  not  say, 
that  he  who  sells  his  whole  time  and  his  own  will  for 


banishment,  and  poverty,  were  the  worst  of  evils.  "  If  Brutus," 
he  adds,  "brought  this  charge  against  Cicero,  he  forgot  him- 
self." And  he  cites  from  Cicero's  epistles  two  noble  sentences, 
in  -which  the  great  orator  speaks  with  due  contempt  of  the  suc- 
cessful CiBsar.  "  Cajsar,"  he  says,  with  a  sneer,  "has  his  luck 
(suam  fortunara),  but,  for  himself,  he,  Cicero,  thought  that  such 
success  was  worse  than  being  crucified."  "  Una  res  est  ea 
miserior  adispisci  quod  ita  volueris."  Ep.  ad  Att.  I.  vii.  11. 
"  Was  not  this,"  asks  Hurd,  "  spoken  as  became  thfe  bravest 
man  that  was  ever  born  in  the  bravest  commonwealth?"  Such 
words,  in  an  age  which  worships  money  and  success,  however 
basely  obtained,  should  make  some  ears  burn. 


OF    LIBERTY.  9 

one  hundred  thousand,  is  not  a  wiser  merchant  than  he 
who  does  it  for  one  hundred  pounds  ;  but  I  will  swear, 
they  are  both  merchants,  and  that  he  is  happier  than 
both,  who  can  live  contentedly  without  selling  that 
estate  to  which  he  was  born.  But  this  dependance 
upon  superiors  is  but  one  chain  of  the  lovers  of  power  : 

Amatorem  trecentae 
Pirithoum  cohibent  catense.^ 

Let  us  begin  with  him  by  break  of  day :  for  by  that 
time  he  is  besieged  by  two  or  three  hundred  suitors ; 
and  the  hall  and  antichambers  (all  the  outworks)  pos- 
sessed by  the  enemy  :  as  soon  as  his  chamber  opens, 
they  are  ready  to  break  into  that,  or  to  corrupt  the 
guards,  for  entrance.  This  is  so  essential  a  part  of 
greatness,  that  whosoever  is  without  it,  looks  like  a 
fallen  favourite,  like  a  person  disgraced,  and  condemned 
to  do  what  he  pleases  all  the  morning.  There  are  some 
who,  rather  than  want  this,  are  contented  to  have  their 
rooms  filled  up  every  day  with  murmuring  and  cursing 
creditors,  and  to  charge  bravely  through  a  body  of 
them  to  get  to  their  coach.  Xow,  I  would  fain  know 
which  is  the  worst  duty,  that  of  any  one  particular 
person  who  waits  to  speak  with  the  great  man,  or  the 
great  man's,  who  waits  every  day  to  speak  with  all  the 
company. 

Aliena  negotia  centum 
Per  caput,  et  circa  saliunt  latus — 

a  hundred  businesses  of  other  men  (many  unjust,  and 
most  impertinent)  fly  continually  about  his  head  and 
ears,  and  strike  him  in  the  face  like  Dorres.      Let  us 

^  Horace,  Odes,  iii.  iv.  79.     "  Three  hundred  chains  confine 
the  amorous  Pirithous,"' — for  being  Pluto's  rival. 


lo  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 

contemplate  him  a  little  at  another  special  scene  of 
glory,  and  that  is,  his  table.  Here  he  seems  to  be  the 
lord  of  all  nature  :  the  earth  affords  him  her  best 
metals  for  his  dishes,  her  best  vegetables  and  animals 
for  his  food  ;  the  air  and  sea  supply  him  with  their 
choicest  birds  and  fishes  ;  and  a  great  many  men,  who 
look  like  masters,  attend  upon  him  ;  and  yet,  when  all 
this  is  done,  even  all  this  is  hut  table  dhoste ;  it  is 
crowded  with  people  for  whom  he  cares  not,  with  many 
parasites  and  some  spies,  with  the  most  burdensome  sort 
of  guests,  the  endeavourers  to  be  witty. 

But  every  body  pays  him  great  respect ;  every  body 
commends  his  meat,  that  is,  his  money ;  every  body 
admires  the  exquisite  dressing  and  ordering  of  it,  that 
is,  his  clerk  of  the  kitchen,  or  his  cook ;  every  body 
loves  his  hospitality,  that  is,  his  vanity.  But  I  desire 
to  know  why  the  honest  inn-keeper,  who  provides  a 
public  table  for  his  profit,  should  be  but  of  a  mean 
profession ;  and  he,  who  does  it  for  his  honour,  a 
munificent  prince.  You  will  say,  because  one  sells, 
and  the  other  gives  :  nay,  both  sell,  though  for  different 
things ;  the  one  for  plain  money,  the  other  for  I  know 
not  what  jewels,  whose  value  is  in  custom  and  in  fancy. 
If  then  his  table  be  made  a  snare  (as  the  Scripture 
speaks)  to  his  liberty.,  where  can  he  hope  for  freedom  ? 
There  is  always,  and  every  where,  some  restraint  upon 
him.'*^    He  is  guarded  with  crowds,  and  shackled  with 


'"  Horace,  Satires,  bk.  ii.  vi.  34.  "A  hundred  affairs  of 
other  people  buzz  round  one  on  every  side.  Roscius  begg'd 
that  you'd  meet  him  at  the  Court  House  before  eight  o'clock 
in  the  morning ;  the  clerks  said  that  you  were  to  remember, 
Quintus,  to  return  to-day  about  an  important  public  affair. 
Mind  and  get  Mjecenas  to  sign  these  tablets,  &c."  Horace  pic- 
tares  the  inconveniences  of  a  public  life  in  town. 


OF   LIBERTY.  ix 

formalities.  The  half  hat,  the  whole  hat,  the  half  smile, 
the  whole  smile,  the  nod,  the  embrace,  the  positive 
parting  with  a  little  bow,  the  comparative  at  the  middle 
of  the  room,  the  superlative  at  the  door ;  and,  if  the 
person  be  pa)i  huper  sehastiis^^^  there  is  a  hypersuperla- 
tive  ceremony  then  of  conducting  him  to  the  bottom 
of  the  stairs,  or  to  the  very  gate  :  as  if  there  were 
such  rules  set  to  these  Leviathans  as  are  to  the  sea, 
Hitherto  shalt  thou  go.,  and  no  further  }- 

Perditur  haec  inter  misero  lux,'^ 

Thus  wretchedly  the  precious  day  is  lost. 

How  many  impertinent  letters  and  visits  must  he  re- 
ceive, and  sometimes  answer  both  too  as  impertinently  ! 
He  never  sets  his  foot  beyond  his  threshold,  unless,  like 
a  funeral,  he  have  a  train  to  follow  him ;  as  if,  like  the 
dead  corpse,  he  could  not  stir,  till  the  bearers  were  all 
ready.  "  My  life  (says  Horace,  speaking  to  one  of  these 
magnificos)  is  a  great  deal  more  easy  and  commodious 
than  thine,  in  that  I  can  go  into  the  market,  and  cheapen 
what  I  please,  without  being  wondered  at ;  and  take 
my  horse  and  ride  as  far  as  Tarentum,  without  being 
missed."  '^     It  is  an  unpleasant  constraint  to  be  always 

"  One  to  be  bowed  to,  more  than  all ;  a  thrice  worshipful 
person.  Cowley  seems  to  have  written  this  sentence  in  English 
characters. 

'^  Job  xxxviii.ll. 

^  Horace,  Sat.  ii.  vi.  59  : — 

Perditur  hsec  inter  misero  lux  :  non  sine  votis, 
0  rus,  quando  te  aspiciani  ? 
'*  A  free  translation  of  part  of  Horace's  Satire,  bk.  i.  vi.  ad- 
dressed to  Maecenas : — 

quacunque  libido  est 
Incedo  solus,  percontor  quanti  olus  ac  far. 
He  closes  up  this  fine  satire  with  a  list  of  his  little  but  free  en- 


12  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 

under  the  sight  and  observation,  and  censure  of  others  ; 
as  there  may  be  vanity  in  it,  so,  methinks,  there  should 
be  vexation,  too,  of  spirit :  and  I  wonder  how  princes 
can  endure  to  have  two  or  three  hundred  men  stand 
gazing  on  them  whilst  they  are  at  dinner,  and  taking 
notice  of  every  bit  they  eat.  Nothing  seems  greater 
and  more  lordly  than  the  multitude  of  domestic  ser- 
vants ;  but  even  this  too,  if  weighed  seriously,  is  a  piece 
of  servitude ;  unless  you  will  be  a  servant  to  them  (as 
many  men  are,)  the  trouble  and  care  of  yours  in  the 
government  of  them  c>ll  is  much  more  than  that  of  every 
one  of  them  in  their  observance  of  you.  I  take  the  pro- 
fession of  a  school-master  to  be  one  of  the  most  useful, 
and  which  ought  to  be  of  the  most  honourable  in  a 
commonwealth ;  yet  certainly  all  his  fasces  and  tyran- 
nical authority  over  so  many  boys  takes  away  his  own 
liberty  more  than  theirs. 

I  do  but  slightly  touch  upon  all  these  particulars  of 
the  slavery  of  greatness :  I  shake  but  a  few  of  their 
outward  chains ;  their  anger,  hatred,  jealousy,  fear, 
envy,  grief,  and  all  the  et  ccBtera  of  their  passions,  which 
are  the  secret,  but  constant,  tyrants  and  torturers  of 
their  life,  I  omit  here,  because,  though  they  be  symp- 
toms most  frequent  and  violent  in  this  disease,  yet  they 
are  common  too,  in  some  degree,  to  the  epidemical 
disease  of  life  itself. 

But  the  ambitious  man,  though  he  be  so  many  ways  a 
slave  (O  toties  servus!)  yet  he  bears  it  bravely  and  he- 
roically ;  he  struts  and  looks  big  upon  the  stage ;  he 
thinks  himself  a  real  prince  in  his  masking-habit,  and 


joyments  and  says,  "  With  such  things  as  these  I  comfort  m3-self, 
living  more  sweetly  than  if  my  grandfather  had  been  a  Quaestor, 
and  my  father,  and  uncle  too,  into  the  bargain." 


OF   LIBERTY.  13 

deceives,  too,  all  the  foolish  part  of  his  spectators  :  he  is 
a  slave  in  saturnalihus.  The  covetous  man  is  a  down- 
right servant,  a  draught-horse  without  bells  or  feathers  ; 
ad  metaUxL  damnatus,  a  man  condemned  to  work  in  mines, 
which  is  the  lowest  and  hardest  condition  of  servitude  ; 
and,  to  increase  his  misery,  a  worker  there  for  he  knows 
not  whom :  He  heapeth  up  riches.,  and  knows  not  who 
shall  enjoy  them  ;^^  it  is  only  sure,  that  he  himself  neither 
shall  nor  can  enjoy  them.  He  is  an  indigent  needy 
slave ;  he  will  hardly  allow  himself  clothes  and  board- 
wages  : 

Unciatim  vix  de  demenso  suo, 
Suum  defraudans  geuium,  comparsit  miser ;  '^ 

He  defrauds  not  only  other  men,  but  his  own  genius ; 
he  cheats  himself  for  money.  But  the  servile  and 
miserable  condition  of  this  wretch  is  so  apparent,  that 
I  leave  it,  as  evident  to  every  man's  sight,  as  well  as 
judgment. 

It  seems  a  more  difficult  work  to  prove  that  the 
voluptuous  man,  too,  is  but  a  servant :  what  can  be 
more  the  life  of  a  freeman,  or,  as  we  say  ordinarily,  of 
a  gentleman,  than  to  follow  nothing  but  his  own  plea- 
sures ?  Why,  I  will  tell  you  who  is  that  true  freeman, 
and  that  true  gentleman ;  not  he  who  blindly  follows  all 
his  pleasures  (the  very  name  of  follower  is  servile) ;  but 
he  who  rationally  guides  them,  and  is  not  hindered  by 
outward  impediments  in  the  conduct  and  enjoyment  of 
them.  If  I  want  skill  or  force  to  restrain  the  beast  that 
I  ride  upon,  though  I  bought  it,  and  call  it  my  own ; 
yet,  in  the  truth  of  the  matter,  I  am  at  that  time  rather 

'*  Psalm  xxxix.  6. 

'^  Tereuce,  Phormio,  act  I.  sc.  i.  v.  33.  A  suflScient  transla- 
tion is  given  in  the  text. 


14  COWLEY'S   ESSAYS. 

liis  man,  than  he  my  horse.  The  voluptuous  men 
(whom  we  are  fallen  upon)  may  be  divided,  I  think, 
into  the  lustful  and  luxurious,  who  are  both  servants  of 
the  belly  ;  the  other,  whom  we  spoke  of  before,  the  am- 
bitious and  the  covetous,  were  /caKci  drjpla,  evil  wild 
beasts;  these  are  yaaripeg  o^oyai,  slow  bellies,  as  our 
translation  renders  it,  but  the  word  apyai  (which  is  a 
fantastical  word,  with  two  directly  opposite  significa- 
tions) will  bear  as  well  the  translation  o^  quick  or  diligent 
bellies;  and  both  interpretations  may  be  applied  to  these 
men.  IMetrodorus  said,  "  that  he  had  learnt  dXrjdojQ 
yacr-pL  -^api'C^rrQai,  to  give  his  belly  just  thanks  for  all 
his  pleasures."  This,  by  the  calumniators  of  Epicurus's 
philosophy,  was  objected  as  one  of  the  most  scandalous 
of  all  their  sayings  ;  which,  according  to  my  charitable 
understanding,  may  admit  a  very  virtuous  sense,  which 
is,  that  he  thanked  his  own  belly  for  that  moderation, 
in  the  customary  appetites  of  it,  which  can  only  give  a 
man  liberty  and  happiness  in  this  world.  Let  this  suffice 
at  present  to  be  spoken  of  those  great  triumviri  of  the 
world;  the  covetous  man,  who  is  a  mean  villain,  like 
Lepidus  ;  the  ambitious,  who  is  a  brave  one,  like  Octa- 
vius ;  and  the  voluptuous,  who  is  a  loose  and  debauched 
one,  like  Mark  Antony  : 

Quisnam  igitur  liber  ?  Sapiens,  sibique  imperiosus :  '^ 
Not  Oenomaus,^^  who  commits  himself  wholly  to  a  cha- 
rioteer, that  may  break  his  neck  :  but  the  man, 

"  Horace,  Sat.  ii.  vii.  83.  "  Who  then  is  free?  the  wise 
man  who  has  dominion  over  himself:  whom  neither  poverty, 
death,  nor  chains  affright,  Avho  checks  his  appetites,  contemns 
honours,  &c."  One  of  Horace's  slaves,  taking  advantage  of  the 
Saturnalia,  reads  his  master  a  fine  lesson.  The  verses  which 
follow  seem  to  be  an  expansion  of  some  of  Davus'  thoughts. 

18  Virgil,  Georg.  iii.  7. 


OF  LIBERTY.  15 

Who  governs  his  own  course  with  steady  hand, 
Who  does  himself  with  sovereign  power  command  ; 
Whom  neither  death  nor  poverty  does  fright, 
Who  stands  not  aukwardly  in  his  own  light 
Agaijist  the  truth  :  who  can,  Avhen  pleasures  knock 
Loud  at  his  door,  keep  firm  the  bolt  and  lock. 
Who  can,  though  honour  at  his  gate  should  stay 
In  all  her  masking  clothes,  send  her  away, 
And  cry,  Be  gone,  I  have  no  mind  to  play. 

This,  I  confess,  is  a  freeman  :  but  it  may  be  said,  that 
many  persons  are  so  shackled  by  their  fortune,  that  they 
are  hindered  from  enjoyment  of  that  manumission,  which 
they  have  obtained  from  virtue.  I  do  both  understand, 
and  in  part  feel,  the  weight  of  this  objection  :  all  I  can 
answer  to  it  is,  that  we  must  get  as  much  liberty  as  we 
can,  we  must  use  our  iitmost  endeavours,  and,  when  all 
that  is  done,  be  contented  with  the  length  of  that  line 
which  is  allowed  us.  If  you  ask  me,  in  what  condition 
of  life  I  think  the  most  allowed  ;  I  should  pitch  upon 
that  sort  of  people,  whom  King  James  was  wont  to  call 
the  happiest  of  our  nation,  the  men  placed  in  the  country 
by  their  fortune  above  an  high-constable,  and  yet  be- 
neath the  trouble  of  a  justice  of  peace ;  in  a  moderate 
plenty,  without  any  just  argument  for  the  desire  of  in- 
creasing it  by  the  care  of  many  relations  ;  and  with  so 
much  knowledge  and  love  of  piety  and  philosophy  (that 
is,  of  the  study  of  God's  laws,  and  of  his  creatures)  as 
may  afford  him  matter  enough  never  to  be  idle,  though 
without  business  ;  and  never  to  be  melancholy,  though 
without  sin  or  vanity. 

I  shall  conclude  this  tedious  discourse  with  a  prayer 
of  mine  in  a  copy  of  Latin  verses,  of  which  I  remember 
no  other  part ;  and  {pour  f aire  bonne  louche^  with  some 
other  verses  upon  the  same  subject : 

"  Magna  Deus,  quod  ad  has  vitse  brevis  attiuet  horas, 
Da  mihi,  da  panem  libertatemque,  nee  ultra 


i6  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 

Sollicitas  effundo  preces :  si  quid  datur  ultra, 
Accipiam  gratus ;  si  uon,  contentus  abibo." 

For  the  few  hours  of  life  allotted  me, 

Give  me  (great  God)  but  bread  and  liberty. 

I'll  beg  no  more :  if  more  thou'rt  pleas'd  to  give, 

I'll  thankfully  that  overplus  receive  : 

If  beyond  this  no  more  be  freely  sent, 

I'll  thank  for  this,  and  go  away  content. 


MARTIAL,  LIB.  I.  EP.  LVL 

"  Vota  tui  breviter/'  &c. 

|ELL  then.  Sir,  you  shall  know  how  far  extend 
The  prayers  and  hopes  of  your  poetic  friend. 
He  does  not  palaces  nor  manors  crave, 
Would  he  no  lord,  but  less  a  lord  would  have ; 
The  ground  he  holds,  if  he  his  own  can  call, 
He  quarrels  not  with  heaven,  because  'tis  small  : 
Let  gay  and  toilsome  greatness  others  please. 
He  loves  of  homely  littleness  the  ease.'^ 
Can  any  man  in  gilded  rooms  attend. 
And  his  dear  hours  in  humble  visits  spend ; 


'^  Hurd  calls  attention  to  this  charming  line,  and  urges  that 
it  is  one  of  the  best  of  Cowley's,  who,  by  the  way,  is  frequently 
happy  in  the  same  style.  "  The  reader  of  taste  feels  the  dif- 
ference between  this  verse  and  that  of  the  original,  though  it  be 
no  bad  one,"  says  the  Bishop : — 

Sordidaque  in  parvis  otia  rebus  araet. 


OF    LIBERTY.  17 

When  in  the  fresh  and  beauteous  fields  he  may 
With  various  healthful  pleasures  fill  the  day  ? 
If  there  be  man  (ye  gods !)  I  ought  to  hate, 
Dependance  and  attendance  be  his  f.ite. 
Still  let  him  busy  be,  and  in  a  crowd, 
And  very  much  a  slave,  and  very  proud : 
Thus  he  perhaps  powerful  and  rich  may  grow ; 
No  matter,  O  ye  gods  !  that  I'll  allow  : 
But  let  him  peace  and  freedom  never  see ; 
Let  him  not  love  this  life,  who  loves  not  me. 


MARTIAL,  LIB.  11.  EP.  LIIL 

"  Via  fieri  liber  ?"  &c. 

jOULD  you  be  free  ?     'Tis  your  chief  wish,  you 
say : 
Come  on ;  I'll  shew  thee,  friend,  the  certain  way. 
If  to  no  feasts  abroad  thou  lov'st  to  go, 
Whilst  bounteous  God  does  bread  at  home  bestow ; 
If  thou  the  goodness  of  thy  clothes  dost  prize 
By  thine  own  use,  and  not  by  others'  eyes ; 
If  (only  safe  from  weathers)  thou  can'st  dwell 
In  a  small  house,  but  a  convenient  shell ; 
If  thou,  without  a  sigh,  or  golden  wish. 
Canst  look  upon  thy  beechen  bowl,  and  dish  ; 
K  in  thy  mind  such  power  and  greatness  be, 
The  Persian  king's  a  slave  compar'd  with  thee. 


1 8  COWLEY'S   ESSAYS. 

MARTIAL,  LIB.  II.  EP.  LXVIIL 

"  Quod  te  nomine,"  &c. 


iiisa 


^?^HAT  I  do  you,  with  humble  bows  no  more, 
^    And  danger  of  my  naked  head,  adore ; 

That  I,  who,  Loi^d  and  master^  cry'd  erewhile, 
Salute  you,  in  a  new  and  different  stile, 
By  your  own  name,  a  scandal  to  you  now, 
Think  not,  that  I  forget  myself  or  you  : 
By  loss  of  all  things,  by  all  others  sought. 
This  freedom,  and  the  freeman's  hat  is  bought. 
A  lord  and  master  no  man  wants,  but  he 
Who  o'er  himself  has  no  authority. 
Who  does  for  honours  and  for  riches  strive. 
And  follies,  without  which  lords  cannot  live. 
If  thou  from  fortune  dost  no  servant  crave. 
Believe  it,  thou  no  master  need'st  to  have. 


ODE,  UPON  LIBERTY. 

I. 

REEDOM  with  Virtue  takes  her  seat; 
Her  proper  place,  her  only  scene. 
Is  in  the  golden  mean, 
She  lives  not  with  the  poor,  nor  with  the  great. 
The  wings  of  those  Necessity  has  dipt. 
And  they're  in  Fortune's  Bridewell  whipt 
To  the  laborious  task  of  bread ; 
These  are  by  various  tyrants  captive  led. 
Now  wild  Ambition  with  imperious  force 
Rides,  reins,  and  spurs  them,  like  th'  unruly  horse. 


OF   LIBERTY.  i 

And  servile  Avarice  yokes  them  now, 

Like  toilsome  oxen,  to  the  plow. 
And  sometimes  Lust,  like  the  misguiding  light, 
Draws  them  through  all  the  labyrinths  of  night. 
If  any  few  among  the  great  there  be 

From  these  insulting  passions  free, 

Yet  we  ev'n  those,  too,  fetter'd  see 
By  custom,  business,  crowds,  and  formal  decency. 

And  wheresoe'er  they  stay,  and  wheresoe'er  they  go, 

Impertinencies  round  them  flow  : 

These  are  the  small  uneasy  things 

WTiich  about  greatness  still  are  found. 

And  rather  it  molest,  than  wound : 
Like  gnats,  which  too  much  heat  of  summer  brings  ; 
But  cares  do  swarm  there,  too,  and  those  have  stings : 
As,  when  the  honey  does  too  open  lie, 

A  thousand  wasps  about  it  fly  : 
iN'or  will  the  master  ev'n  to  share  admit ; 


'Tis  morning  :  well ;  I  fain  would  yet  sleep  on ; 

You  cannot  now ;  you  must  be  gone 

To  court,  or  to  the  noisy  hall : 
Besides,  the  rooms  without  are  crowded  all ; 

The  stream  of  business  does  begin. 
And  a  spring-tide  of  clients  is  come  in. 
Ah,  cruel  guards,  which  this  poor  prisoner  keep ! 

Will  they  not  suffer  him  to  sleep  ? 
Make  an  escape  ;  out  at  the  postern  flee. 
And  get  some  blessed  hours  of  liberty  : 
With  a  few  friends,  and  a  few  dishes  dine. 

And  much  of  mirth  and  moderate  wine. 


20  COWLEY'S   ESSAYS. 

To  thy  bent  mind  some  relaxation  give, 

And  steal  one  day  out  of  thy  life,  to  live. 

Oh,  happy  man  (he  cries)  to  whom  kind  heaven 

Has  such  a  freedom  always  given ! 
Why,  mighty  madman,  what  should  hinder  thee 

From  being  every  day  as  free  ? 

3. 

In  all  the  freeborn  nations  of  the  air, 

Never  did  bird  a  spirit  so  mean  and  sordid  bear, 

As  to  exchange  his  native  liberty 

Of  soaring  boldly  up  into  the  sky, 

His  liberty  to  sing,  to  perch,  or  fly, 

When,  and  wherever  he  thought  good, 
And  all  his  innocent  pleasures  of  the  wood. 
For  a  more  plentiful  or  constant  food. 

Nor  ever  did  ambitious  rage 

Make  him  into  a  painted  cage, 
Or  the  false  forest^^  of  a  well-hung  room. 

For  honour  and  preferment,  come. 
Now,  blessings  on  you  all,  ye  heroic  race. 
Who  keep  your  primitive  powers  and  rights  so  well. 

Though  men  and  angels  fell. 
Of  all  material  lives  the  highest  place 

To  you  is  justly  given ; 

And  ways  and  walks  the  nearest  heaven. 
Whilst  wretched  we,  yet  vain  and  proud,  think  fit 

To  boast,  that  we  look  up  to  it. 
Even  to  the  universal  tyrant.  Love, 

You  homage  pay  but  once  a  year : 


'^°  Alluding,  110  doubt,  to  the  tapestry,  common  enough,  and 
often  very  fine  too,  of  Cowley's  time. 


OF   LIBERTY. 

Xone  so  degenerous  and  unbirdly^^  prove, 
As  his  perpetual  yoke  to  bear. 

None,  but  a  few  unhappy  houshold  fowl, 

Whom  human  lordship  does  controul ; 
Who  from  their  birth  corrupted  were 

By  bondage,  and  by  man's  example  here. 


He's  no  small  prince,  who  every  day 
Thus  to  himself  can  say  ; 

Now  will  I  sleep,  now  eat,  now  sit,  now  walk, 

Now  meditate  alone,  now  with  acquaintance  talk. 

This  I  will  do,  here  I  will  stay. 

Or,  if  my  fancy  call  me  away. 

My  man  and  I  will  presently  go  ride  ; 

(For  we,  before,  have  nothing  to  provide, 

Nor,  after,  are  to  render  an  account) 

To  Dover,  Berwick,  or  the  Cornish  mount. 
If  thou  but  a  short  journey  take. 
As  if  thy  last  thou  wert  to  make. 

Business  must  be  despatch'd,  ere  thou  canst  part, 
Nor  canst  thou  stir,  unless  there  be 
A  hundred  horse  and  men  to  wait  on  thee. 
And  many  a  mule,  and  many  a  cart ; 
What  an  unwieldy  man  thou  art ! 
The  Rhodian  Colossus  so 
A  journey,  too,  might  go. 


^'  A  happy  coinage  of  a  word.  Degenei'ous  is  the  old  (and 
better?)  form  of  degenerate;  and  why  not  unbirdly  as  well  as 
unmanly? 


COWLEY'S   ESSAYS. 


5. 


Wliere  honour,  or  where  conscience,  does  not  bind. 

No  other  law  shall  shackle  me ; 

Slave  to  myself  I  will  not  be. 
Nor  shall  my  future  actions  be  confin'd 

By  my  own  present  mind. 
Who  by  resolves  and  vows  engag'd  does  stand 

For  days,  that  yet  belong  to  fate. 
Does,  like  an  unthrift,  mortgage  his  estate, 

Before  it  falls  into  his  hand : 

The  bondman  of  the  cloister  so, 
All  that  he  does  receive,  does  always  owe ; 
And  still,  as  time  comes  in,  it  goes  away 

Not  to  enjoy,  but  debts  to  pay. 
Unhappy  slave,  and  pupil  to  a  bell. 
Which  his  hour's  work,  as  well  as  hours,  does  tell ! 
Unhappy,  till  the  last,  the  kind  releasing  knell. 

6. 

If  life  should  a  well-order'd  poem  be 

(In  which  he  only  hits  the  white 
Who  joins  true  profit  with  the  best  delight) 
The  more  heroic  strain  let  others  take, 

IVIine  the  Pindaric  way  I'll  make  ; 
The  matter  shall  be  grave,  the  numbers  loose  and  free. 
It  shall  not  keep  one  settled  pace  of  time, 
In  the  same  tune  it  shall  not  always  chime. 
Nor  shall  each  day  just  to  his  neighbour  rhime ; 
A  thousand  liberties  it  shall  dispense, 
And  yet  shall  manage  all  without  offence 
Or  to  the  sweetness  of  the  sound,  or  greatness  of  the  sense: 
Nor  shall  it  never  from  one  subject  start, 

Nor  seek  transitions  to  depart, 


OF   LIBERTY.  23 

Xor  its  set  way  o'er  stiles  and  bridges  make, 

Nor  thorough  lanes  a  compass  take, 
As  if  it  fear'd  some  trespass  to  commit. 

When  the  wide  air's  a  road  for  it. 
So  the  imperial  eagle  does  not  stay 

Till  the  whole  carcase  he  devour, 

That's  fallen  into  its  power  : 
As  if  his  generous  hunger  understood 
That  he  can  never  want  plenty  of  food. 

He  only  sucks  the  tasteful  blood  ; 
And  to  fresh  game  flies  chearfully  away; 
To  kites  and  meaner  birds,  he  leaves  the  mangled  prey 


II. 


OF   SOLITUDE. 


UNQUAM  minus  solus,  quam  cum  solus," ' 
is  now  become  a  very  vulgar  saying.  Every 
man,  and  almost  every  boy,  for  these  seven- 
teen hundred  years,  has  had  it  in  his  mouth. 
But  it  was  at  first  spoken  by  the  excellent  Scipio,  who 
was  without  question  a  most  eloquent  and  witty  person, 
as  well  as  the  most  wise,  most  worthy,  most  happy,  and 
the  greatest  of  all  mankind.  His  meaning,  no  doubt, 
was  this,  that  he  found  more  satisfaction  to  his  mind, 
and  more  improvement  of  it,  by  solitude  than  by  com- 
pany; and,  to  shew  that  he  spoke  not  this  loosely,  or 
out  of  vanity,  after  he  had  made  Rome  mistress  of 
almost  the  whole  world,  he  retired  himself  from  it  by  a 
voluntary  exile,  and  at  a  private  house  in  the  middle  of 
a  wood  near  Linternum,-  passed  the  remainder  of  his 


'  "Never  less  alone  than  when  alone;"  a  saying  generally 
ascribed  to  Cicero. 

-  Seneca,  Ep.  Ixxxvi.  In  this  epistle,  Seneca  describes 
Scipio's  voluntary  retreat,  and  his  little  villa,  built  of  squared 
stone  (lapide  quadrato)  flanked  with  two  little  towers.  "  Does 
the  great  captain,  once  the  terror  of  Carthage,  live  here,"  said 


OF   SOLITUDE.  25 

glorious  life  no  less  gloriously.  This  house,  Seneca 
went  to  see  so  long  after  with  great  veneration ;  and, 
among  other  things,  describes  his  baths  to  have  been 
of  so  mean  a  structure,  that  now,  says  he,  the  basest 
of  the  people  would  despise  them,  and  cry  out,  "  Poor 
Scipio  understood  not  how  to  live."  What  an  authority 
is  here  for  the  credit  of  retreat !  and  happy  had  it  been 
for  Hannibal,  if  adversity  could  have  taught  him  as 
much  wisdom  as  was  learnt  by  Scipio  from  the  highest 
prosperities.  This  would  be  no  wonder,  if  it  were  as 
truly  as  it  is  colourably  and  wittily  said  by  Monsieur 
de  Montaigne,  "  that  ambition  itself  might  teach  us  to 
love  solitude  ;  there  is  nothing  does  so  much  hate  to 
have  companions."  It  is  true,  it  loves  to  have  its 
elbows  free,  it  detests  to  have  company  on  either  side ; 
but  it  delights  above  all  things  in  a  train  behind,  aye, 
and  ushers  too  before  it.  But  the  greatest  part  of  men 
are  so  far  from  the  opinion  of  that  noble  Roman,  that, 
if  they  chance  at  any  time  to  be  without  company,  they 
are  like  a  becalmed  ship ;  they  never  move  but  by  the 
wind  of  other  men's  breath,  and  have  no  oars  of  their 
own  to  steer  withal.  It  is  very  fantastical  and  contra- 
dictory in  human  nature,  that  men  should  love  them- 
selves above  all  the  rest  of  the  world,  and  yet  never 
endure  to  be  Avith  themselves.  When  they  are  in  love  with 
a  mistress,  all  other  persons  are  importunate  and  burden- 
some to  them.  "  Tecum  vivere  amem,  tecum  obeam 
lubens,"  they  would  live  and  die  with  her  alone. 

"  Sic  ego  secretis  possum  bene  vivere  sylvis, 
Qua  nulla  humane  sit  via  trita  pede. 


I,  "  and  here  wash  the  mud  from  his  body  on  his  return  from 
the  plough,'"  &c. 


26  COWLETS    ESSAYS. 

Tu  mihi  curarum  requies,  tu  nocte  vel  atrS, 
Lumen,  et  in  solis  tu  mihi  turba  locis."^ 

With  thee  for  ever  I  in  woods  could  rest, 
Where  never  human  foot  the  ground  has  prest. 
Thou  from  all  shades  the  darkness  ca:ist  exclude, 
And  from  a  desart  banish  solitude. 

And  yet  our  dear  self  is  so  wearisome  to  us,  that  we 
can  scarcely  support  its  conversation  for  an  hour  to- 
gether. This  is  such  an  odd  temper  of  mind,  as  Catullus 
expresses  towards  one  of  his  mistresses,  whom  we  may 
suppose  to  have  been  of  a  very  unsociable  humour,* 

"  Odi,  et  amo :  quare  id  faciam  fortasse  requiris. 
Nescio;  sed  fieri  sentio,  et  excrucior."' 

I  hate,  and  yet  I  love  thee  too ; 
How  can  that  be  ?     I  know  not  how ; 
Only  that  so  it  is  I  know, 
And  feel  with  torment  that  'tis  so. 

It  is  a  deplorable  condition,  this,  and  drives  a  man 
sometimes  to  pitiful  shifts,  in  seeking  how  to  avoid 
himself. 

The  truth  of  the  matter  is,  that  neither  he  who  is  a 
fop  in  the  world,  is  a  fit  man  to  be  alone ;  nor  he  who 
has  set  his  heart  much  upon  the  world,  though  he  have 
never  so  much  understanding;  so  that  solitude  can  be 
well  fitted  and  sit  right,  but  upon  a  very  few  persons. 
They  must  have  enough  knowledge  of  the  world  to  see 
the  vanity  of  it,  and  enough  virtue  to  despise  all  vanity; 
if  the  mind  be  possessed  with  any  lust  or  passions,  a  man 
had  better  be  in  a  fair,  than  in  a  wood  alone.  They 
may,  like  petty  thieves,  cheat  us  perhaps,  and  pick  our 


Tibullus,  xiii.  9. 

De  Amore  Suo,  Ixxxii 


OF    SOLITUDE.  27 

pockets,  in  the  midst  of  company;  but,  like  robbers, 
they  use  to  strip  and  bind,  or  murder  us,  when  they 
catch  us  alone.  This  is  but  to  retreat  from  men,  and  to 
fall  into  the  hands  of  devils.  It  is  like  the  punishment 
of  parricides  among  the  Romans,  to  be  sewed  into  a  bag, 
with  an  ape,  a  dog,  and  a  serpent.^ 

The  first  work,  therefore,  that  a  man  must  do,  to 
make  himself  capable  of  the  good  of  solitude,  is,  the 
very  eradication  of  all  lusts  ;  for  how  is  it  possible  for 
a  man  to  enjoy  himself,  while  his  affections  are  tied  to 
things  without  himself?  In  the  second  place,  he  must 
learn  the  art,  and  get  the  habit  of  thinking  ;  for  this,  too, 
no  less  than  well  speaking,  depends  upon  much  practice ; 
and  cogitation  is  the  thing  which  distinguishes  the  soli- 
tude of  a  God  from  a  wild  beast.  Now,  because  the  soul 
of  man  is  not,  by  its  own  nature  or  observation,  fur- 
nished with  sufficient  materials  to  work  upon,  it  is  neces- 
sary for  it  to  have  continual  recourse  to  learning  and 
books  for  fresh  supplies,  so  that  the  solitary  life  will 
grow  indigent,  and  be  ready  to  starve,  without  them  ; 
but  if  once  we  be  thoroughly  engaged  in  the  love  of 
letters,  instead  of  being  wearied  with  the  length  of  any 
day,  we  shall  only  complain  of  the  shortness  of  our 
whole  life. 

"  0  vita,  stulto  longa,  sapienti  brevis  !  "^ 
0  life,  long  to  the  fool,  short  to  the  wise ! 

The  first  minister  of  state  has  not  so  much  business 
in  public,  as  a  wise  man  has  in  private :  if  the  one  have 
little  leisure  to  be  alone,  the  other  has  less  leisure  to  be 


^  Lex  de  Parricidis. 

^  "  0  vita,  misero  longa,  felici  brevis  !"      0  life,  long  to  the 


un 


happy,  to  the  happy  brief. — Puhlius  S>/rtis. 


28  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 

in  company  ;  the  one  has  but  part  of  the  affairs  of  one 
nation,  the  other  all  the  works  of  God  and  nature,  under 
his  consideration.  There  is  no  saying  shocks  me  so  much 
as  that  which  I  hear  very  often,  "  that  a  man  does  not 
know  how  to  pass  his  time."  It  would  have  been  but 
ill  spoken  by  Methusalem  in  the  nine  hundred  sixty- 
ninth  year  of  his  life  ;  so  far  it  is  from  us,  who  have 
not  time  enough  to  attain  to  the  utmost  perfection  of 
any  part  of  any  scienc<f,  to  have  cause  to  complain  that 
we  are  forced  to  be  idle  for  want  of  work.  But  this, 
you  will  say,  is  work  only  for  the  learned ;  others  are 
not  capable  either  of  the  employments  or  divertisements 
that  arrive  from  letters.  I  know  they  are  not ;  and, 
therefore,  cannot  much  recommend  solitude  to  a  man 
totally  illiterate.  But,  if  any  man  be  so  unlearned,  as 
to  want  entertainment  of  the  little  intervals  of  accidental 
solitude,  which  frequently  occur  in  almost  all  conditions 
(except  the  very  meanest  of  the  people,  who  have  busi- 
ness enough  in  the  necessary  provisions  for  life),  it  is 
truly  a  great  shame  both  to  his  parents  and  himself;  for 
a  very  small  portion  of  any  ingenious  art  will  stop  up  all 
those  gaps  of  our  time:  either  music,  or  painting,  or  de- 
signing, or  chemistry,  or  history,  or  gardening,  or  twenty 
other  things,  will  do  it  usefully  and  pleasantly ;  and,  if 
he  happen  to  set  his  affections  upon  poetry  (which  I  do 
not  advise  him  too  immoderately),  that  will  over-do  it ; 
no  wood  will  be  thick  enough  to  hide  him  from  the  im- 
portunities of  company  or  business,  which  would  ab- 
stract him  from  his  beloved. 

" 0  qui  ine  gelidis  in  valiibus  Hjemi 

Sistat,  et  ingenti  ramorum  protegat  umbra  .'"' 


^  Virg.  Georg.  ii.  489. 


OF    SOLITUDE.  29 


Plai],  old  patrician  trees,  so  great  and  good  ! 

Hail,  ye  plebeian  under-wood  ! 

Where  the  poetic  birds  rejoice, 
And  for  their  quiet  nests  and  plenteous  food 

Pay,  with  their  grateful  voice. 

2. 

Hail,  the  poor  Muses'  richest  manor-seat ! 
Ye  country  houses  and  retreat, 
Which  all  the  happy  gods  so  love. 

That  for  you  oft  they  quit  their  bright  and  great 
Metropolis  above. 


Here  Nature  does  a  house  for  me  erect. 
Nature,  the  wisest  architect. 
Who  those  fond  artists  does  despise 

That  can  the  fair  and  living  trees  neglect ; 
Yet  the  dead  timber  prize. 

4. 

Here  let  me,  careless  and  unthoughtful  lying, 
Hear  the  soft  winds,  above  me  Hying, 
With  all  their  wanton  boughs  dispute, 

And  the  more  tuneful  birds  to  both  replying, 
Nor  be  myself,  too,  mute. 

5. 

A  silver  stream  shall  roll  his  watei-^  near, 

Gilt  with  the  sun-beams  here  and  there, 
On  whose  enamel'd  bank  I'll  walk, 

And  see  how  prettily  they  smile,  and  hear 
How  prettily  they  talk. 


30  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 

6. 

Ah  wretched,  and  too  solitary  he, 

Who  loves  not  his  own  company! 
He'll  feel  the  weight  oft  many  a  day, 

Unless  he  call  in  sin  or  vanity 
To  help  to  bear't  away. 

7. 

Oh  Solitude,  first  state  of  human-kind  ! 

Which  blest  remain'd,  till  man  did  find 
Ev'n  his  own  helper's  company. 

As  soon  as  two  (alas !)  together  join'd, 
The  serpent  made  up  three. 

8. 

Tho'  God  himself,  through  countless  ages,  thee 
His  sole  companion  chose  to  be. 
Thee,  sacred  Solitude,  alone. 

Before  the  branchy  head  of  number's  tree 
Sprang  from  the  trunk  of  one. 

9. 

Thou  (tho'  men  think  thine  an  unactive  part) 
Dost  break  and  tame  th'  unruly  heart, 
Which  else  would  know  no  settled  pace, 

Making  it  move,  well  manag'd  by  thy  art. 
With  swiftness  and  with  grace. 

10. 

Thou  the  faint  beams  of  reason's  scatter'd  light 
Dost,  like  a  burning  glass,  unite. 
Dost  multiply  the  feeble  heat. 

And  fortify  the  strength,  till  thou  dost  bright 
And  noble  fires  beget. 


I 


OF    SOLITUDE. 
11. 

Whil>t  this  hard  truth  I  tench,  methhiks  I  see 
The  monster  London'-'  laugh  at  me ; 
I  should  at  thee  too,  foolish  city, 

If  it  were  fit  to  laugh  at  misery; 
But  thy  estate  I  pity. 

12. 

Let  but  thy  wicked  men  from  out  thee  go. 
And  all  the  fools  that  crowd  thee  so. 
Even  thou,  who  dost  thy  millions  boast, 

A  village  less  than  Islington  wilt  grow, 
A  solitude  almost. 


"  "  London  has  a  great  belly  but  no  palate." — Hobbes.  Hist. 
Civil  War,  p.  169,  quoted  by  Hurd. 


III. 


OF    OBSCURITY. 


•'  Nam  neque  divitibus  contingunt  gaudia  solis ; 
"  Nee  vixit  male,  qui  natus  moriensque  fefellit."' 

God  made  not  pleasures  only  for  the  rich ; 

Nor  have  those  men  without  their  share  too  liv'd, 

Who  both  in  life  and  death  the  world  deceiv'd. 

HIS  seems  a  strange  sentence,  thus  literally 
translated,  and  looks  as  if  it  were  in  vindi- 
cation of  the  men  of  business  (for  who  else 
can  deceive  the  world  ?)  whereas  it  is  in 
commendation  of  those  who  live  and  die  so  obscurely, 
•that  the  world  takes  no  notice  of  them.  This  Horace 
calls  deceiving  the  world  ;  and  in  another  place  uses  the 
same  phrase, 

*' Secretum  iter  et  fallentis  semita  vitae."^ 

The  secret  tracks  of  the  deceiving  life. 

It  is  very  elegant  in  Latin,  but  our  English  word  will 
hardly  bear  up  to  that  sense ;  and  therefore  Mr.  Broom 
translates  it  very  well — 

Or  from  a  life,  led,  as  it  were,  by  stealth. 

'  Horace,  Ep.  i.  xvii.  9. 
2  Horace,  Ep.  i.  xviii.  103. 


OF    OBSCURITY.  33 

Yet  we  say,  in  our  language,  a  thing  deceives  our  sight, 
when  it  passes  before  us  unperceived  :  and  we  may  say 
well  enough,  out  of  the  same  author,-^ 

Sometimes  with  sleep,  sometimes  with  w  ine,  we  strive 
The  cares  of  life  and  troubles  to  deceive. 

But  that  is  not  to  deceive  the  world,  but  to  deceive  our- 
selves, as  Quintilian  says,'*  "  vitam  fallere,"  to  draw  on 
still,  and  amuse,  and  deceive  our  life,  till  it  be  advanced 
insensibly  to  the  fatal  period,  and  fall  into  that  pit  which 
nature  hath  prepared  for  it.  The  meaning  of  all  this 
is  no  more  than  that  most  vulgar  saying,  "  Bene  qui  la- 
tuit,  bene  vixit,"  he  has  lived  well,  who  has  lain  well 
hidden.  Which,  if  it  be  a  truth,  the  world  (I  will 
swear)  is  sufficiently  deceived  :  for  my  part,  I  think  it 
is,  and  that  the  pleasantest  condition  of  life  is  in  incog- 
nito.  What  a  brave  privilege  is  it,  to  be  free  from  all 
contentions,  from  all  envying  or  being  envied,  from  re- 
ceiving or  paying  all  kind  of  ceremonies  !  It  is,  in  my 
mind,  a  very  delightful  pastime,  for  two  good  and  agree- 
able friends  to  travel  up  and  down  together,  in  places 
where  they  are  by  nobody  known,  nor  know  anybody. 
It  was  the  case  of  ^neas  and  his  Achates,  when  they 
walked  invisibly  about  the  fields  and  streets  of  Carthage; 
Venus  herself 

A  vail  of  thicken'd  air  around  them  cast, 

That  none  might  know,  or  see  them,  as  they  past.^ 

The  common  story  of  Demosthenes'  confession,  that  he 
had  taken  great  pleasure  in  hearing  of  a  tanker-woman 


Hor.  Sat.  11.  vii.  114.  *  Quint,  Declam.  deApib. 

*  Virgil,  ^n.  i.  415. 

D 


34  COWLEY'S   ESSAYS. 

say,  as  he  passed,  "  This  is  that  Demosthenes/'  is  won- 
derful ridiculous  from  so  solid  an  orator.  I  myself 
have  often  met  with  that  temptation  to  vanity  (if  it  were 
any)  ;  but  am  so  far  from  finding  it  any  pleasure,  that 
it  only  makes  me  run  faster  from  the  place,  till  I  get,  as 
it  were,  out  of  sight-shot.  Democritus  relates,  and  in 
such  a  manner  as  if  he  gloried  in  the  good  fortune  and 
commodity  of  it,  that,  when  he  came  to  Athens,  nobody 
there  did  so  much  as  take  notice  of  him;  and  Epicurus 
lived  there  very  well,  that  is,  lay  hid  many  years  in  his 
gardens,  so  famous  since  that  time,  with  his  friend 
Metrodorus :  after  whose  death,  making  in  one  of  his 
letters  a  kind  commemoration  of  the  happiness  which 
they  two  had  enjoyed  together,  he  adds  at  last,  that  he 
thought  it  no  disparagement  to  those  great  felicities  of 
their  life,  that,  in  the  midst  of  the  most  talked-of  and 
talking  country  in  the  world,  they  had  lived  so  long, 
not  only  without  fame,  but  almost  without  being  heard 
of.  And  yet,  within  a  very  few  years  afterward,  there  were 
no  two  names  of  men  more  known,  or  more  generally 
celebrated.  If  we  engage  into  a  large  acquaintance  and 
various  familiarities,  we  set  open  our  gates  to  the  in- 
vaders of  most  of  our  time :  we  expose  our  life  to  a  quo- 
tidian ague  of  frigid  impertinencies,  which  would  make 
a  wise  man  tremble  to  think  of.  Kow,  as  for  being 
known  much  by  sight,  and  pointed  at,  I  cannot  com- 
prehend the  honour  that  lies  in  that :  whatsoever  it  be, 
every  mountebank  has  it  more  than  the  best  doctor,  and 
the  hangman  more  than  the  lord  chief  justice  of  a  city. 
Every  creature  has  it,  both  of  nature  and  art,  if  it  be 
any  ways  extraordinary.  It  was  as  often  said,  "This  is 
that  Bucephalus,"  or,  "  This  is  that  Incitatus,"  when 
they  were  led  prancing  through  the  streets,  as  "  This  is 
that  Alexander,"    or,    "This   is  that  Domitian;"    and 


OF    OBSCURITY.  35 

truly,  for  the  latter,  I  take  Incitatus  to  have  been  a 
much  more  honourable  beast  than  his  master,  and  more 
deserving  the  consulship,  than  he  the  empire. 

I  love  and  commend  a  true  good  fame,  because  it  is 
the  shadow  of  virtue  ;  not  that  it  doth  any  good  to  the 
body  which  it  accompanies,  but  it  is  an  efficacious 
shadow,  and,  like  that  of  St.  Peter,  cures  the  diseases 
of  others.  The  best  kind  of  glory,  no  doubt,  is  that 
which  is  reflected  from  honesty,  such  as  was  the  glory 
of  Cato  and  Aristides  ;  but  it  was  harmful  to  them  both, 
and  is  seldom  beneficial  to  any  man,  whilst  he  lives ; 
what  it  is  to  him  after  his  death,  I  cannot  say,  because 
I  love  not  philosophy  merely  notional  and  conjectural, 
and  no  man  who  has  made  the  experiment  has  been  so 
kind  as  to  come  back  to  inform  us.^  Upon  the  whole 
matter,  I  account  a  person  who  has  a  moderate  mind 
and  fortune,  and  lives  in  the  conversation  of  two  or 
three  agreeable  friends,  with  little  commerce  in  the 
world  besides,  who  is  esteemed  well  enough  by  his  few 
neighbours  that  know  him,  and  is  truly  irreproachable 
by  any  body ;  and  so,  after  a  healthful  quiet  life,  before 
the  great  inconveniences  of  old  age,  goes  more  silently 
out  of  it  than  he  came  in  (for  I  would  not  have  him  so 
much  as  cry  in  the  exit)  :  this  innocent  deceiver  of  the 
world,  as  Horace  calls  him,  this  "  muta  persona,"  I  take 
to  have  been  more  happy  in  his  part,  than  the  greatest 


^  So  the  poet : — 

"  Tell  us,  ye  dead, 
Will  none  of  ye  proclaim  the  dreadful  story, 
What  is  it  ye  are,  and  we  shall  shortly  be  ?  " 

'' Cowley  means,"   says  Hurd,  "will  none  inform  us  whether 
posthumous  fame  makes  us  happier  iu  another  life*  " 


36  COWLEY'S  ESSAYS. 

actors  that  fill  the  stage  with  show  and  noise,  nay,  even 
than  Augustus  himself,  who  asked  with  his  last  breath, 
whether  he  had  not  played  his  farce  very  well. 

Seneca,  ex  Thyeste,  Act.  II.     Chor. 

"  Stet,  quicumque  volet  potens 
Aulae  culmine  lubrico  : 
Me  dulcis  saturet  quies. 
Obscuro  positus  loco, 
Leni  perfruar  otio. 
NuUis  nota  Quiritibus 
^tas  per  taciturn  fluat. 
Sic  ciim  transierint  mei 
iSTullo  cum  strepitu  dies, 
Plebeius  moriar  senex. 
Illi  mors  gravis  incubat, 
Qui,  notus  nimis  omnibus, 
Ignotus  moritur  sibi." 

Upon  the  slippery  tops  of  human  state. 

The  gilded  pinnacles  of  fate. 
Let  others  proudly  stand,  and,  for  a  while 

The  giddy  danger  to  beguile. 
With  joy,  and  with  disdain,  look  down  on  all, 

Till  their  heads  turn,  and  down  they  fall. 
Me,  O  ye  gods,  on  earth,  or  else  so  near 

That  I  no  fall  to  earth  may  fear. 
And,  O  ye  gods,  at  a  good  distance  seat 

From  the  long  ruins  of  the  great.' 
Here  wrapt  in  th'  arms  of  quiet  let  rae  lye  ; 
Quiet,  companion  of  obscurity. 

^  A  wonderfully  fine  line,  of  which  there  is  no  trace  in  the 
original.    H. 


OF    OBSCURITY.  37 

Here  let  my  life  with  as  much  silence  slide, 

As  time,  that  measures  it,  does  glide. 
Xor  let  the  breath  of  infamy  or  fame, 
From  town  to  town  echo  about  my  name. 
Nor  let  my  homely  death  embroider'd  be 

With  scutcheon  or  with  elegy. 

An  old  plebeian  let  me  die, 
Alas,  all  then  are  such  as  well  as  I. 

To  him,  alas,  to  him,  I  fear, 
The  face  of  death  will  terrible  appear ; 
Who,  in  his  life  flattering  his  senseless  pride, 
By  being  known  to  all  the  world  beside, 
Does  not  himself,  when  he  is  dying,  know, 
Xor  what  he  is,  nor  whither  he's  to  go. 


IV. 


OF   AGRICULTURE. 

jIIE  first  wish  of  Virgil  (as  you  will  find  anon 
by  his  verses)  was  to  be  a  good  philosopher ; 
the  second,  a  good  husbandman  :  and  God 
(whom  he  seemed  to  understand  better  than 
most  of  the  most  learned  heathens)  dealt  with  him,  just 
as  he  did  with  Solomon  ;  because  he  prayed  for  wisdom 
in  the  first  place,  he  added  all  things  else,  which  were 
subordinately  to  be  desired.  He  made  him  one  of  the 
best  philosophers,  and  best  husbandmen ;  and,  to  adorn 
and  communicate  both  those  faculties,  the  best  poet : 
he  made  him,  besides  all  this,  a  rich  man,  and  a  man 
who  desired  to  be  no  richer — 

"  O  fortunatus  nimium,  et  bona  qui  sua  uovit!"  ' 
To  be  a  husbandman,  is  but  a  retreat  from  the  city ;  to 


'  Virgil:- 

O  fortunati  nimium,  sua  si  bona  norint. 
Agricolse,  quibus  ipsa  procul  discordibus  armis 
Fundit  bumo  facilem  victum  justissima  tellus. 

0  husbandmen  too  happy,  if  they  did  but  know  their  own  hap- 
piness, for  whom,  far  from  discordant  war,  the  grateful  earth 
pours  from  her  bosom  an  easy  abundance. 


OF  AGRICULTURE.  39 

he  a  philosopher,  from  the  world ;  or  rather,  a  retreat 
irom  the  world,  as  it  is  man's,  into  the  world,  as  it  is 
God's. 

But,  since  nature  denies  to  most  men  the  capacity  or 
appetite,  and  fortune  allows  but  to  a  very  f^w  the  op- 
portunities or  possibility  of  applying  themselves  wholly 
to  philosophy,  the  best  mixture  of  human  affairs  that  we 
can  make,  are  the  employments  of  a  country  life.  It  is, 
as  Columella  calls  it,  "  Res  sine  dubitatione  proxima,  et 
quasi  consanguinea  sapientiae,"  ^  the  nearest  neighbour, 
or  rather  next  in  kindred,  to  philosophy.  Yarro  says, 
the  principles  of  it  are  the  same  which  Ennius  made  to 
be  the  principles  of  all  nature,  Earth,  Water,  Air,  and 
the  Sun.  It  does  certainly  comprehend  more  parts  of 
philosophy,  than  any  one  profession,  art,  or  science,  in 
the  world  besides :  and  therefore  Cicero^  says,  the 
pleasures  of  a  husbandman,  "  mihi  ad  sapientis  vitam 
proxime  videntur  accedere,"  come  very  nigh  to  those 
of  a  philosopher.  There  is  no  other  sort  of  life  that 
affords  so  many  branches  of  praise  to  a  panegyrist :  the 
utility  of  it,  to  a  man's  self;  the  usefulness,  or  rather 
necessity,  of  it  to  all  the  rest  of  mankind ;  the  innocence, 
the  pleasure,  the  antiquity,  the  dignity. 

The  utility  (I  mean  plainly  the  lucre  of  it)  is  not  so 
great,  now  in  our  nation,  as  arises  from  merchandise  and 
the  trading  of  the  city,  from  whence  many  of  the  best 
estates  and  chief  honours  of  the  kingdom  are  derived  : 
we  have  no  men  now  fetched  from  the  plough  to  be 
made  lords,  as  they  were  in  Rome  to  be  made  consuls 
and   dictators ;    the  reason  of  which  I  conceive  to  be 


2  Lib.  i.  c.  1. 

^  Cicero,   De  Senectute.     Both  this   and  the   passage  from 
Columella  are  rendered  in  the  text. 


40  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 

from  an  evil  custom,  now  grown  as  strong  among  us  as 
if  it  were  a  law,  which  is,  that  no  men  put  their  children 
to  be  bred  up  apprentices  in  agriculture,  as  in  other 
trades,  but  such  who  are  so  poor,  that,  when  they  come 
to  be  men,  they  have  not  where-withall  to  set  up  in  it, 
and  so  can  only  farm  some  small  parcel  of  ground,  the 
rent  of  which  devours  all  but  the  bare  subsistence  of 
the  tenant :  whilst  they  who  are  proprietors  of  the  land 
are  either  too  proud,  or,  for  want  of  that  kind  of  educa- 
tion, too  ignorant,  to  improve  their  estates,  though  the 
means  of  doing  it  be  as  easy  and  certain  in  this,  as  in 
any  other  track  of  commerce.  If  there  were  always  two 
or  three  thousand  youths,  for  seven  or  eight  years, 
bound  to  this  profession,  that  they  might  learn  the 
whole  art  of  it,  and  afterwards  be  enabled  to  be  masters 
of  it,  by  a  moderate  stock ;  I  cannot  doubt  but  that  we 
should  see  as  many  aldermen's  estates  made  in  the 
country,  as  now  we  do  out  of  all  kind  of  merchandizing 
in  the  city.^  There  are  as  many  ways  to  be  rich,  and, 
which  is  better,  there  is  no  possibility  to  be  poor,  with- 
out such  negligence  as  can  neither  have  excuse  nor 
pity  ;  for  a  little  ground  will,  without  question,  feed  a 
little  family,  and  the  superfluities  of  life  (which  are  now 
in  some  cases  by  custom  made  almost  necessary)  must 
be  supplied  out  of  the  superabundance  of  art  and  in- 
dustry, or  contemned  by  as  great  a  degree  of  phi- 
losophy. 

"*  Cowley  here  anticipates,  by  suggesting  an  apprenticeship 
of  seven  or  eight  years  of  two  or  three  thousand  youths  to  agri- 
culture, the  scientific  pursuit  of  that  profession  which  indeed  we 
ai-e  only  just  now  entering  upon.  Bacon,  Sir  W.  Temple,  John 
Evelyn  and  other  thinkers  have,  as  well  as  Cowley,  urged  the 
scientific  pursuit  of  agriculture.  The  essay  is  well  worthy  of 
study. 


OF   AGRICULTURE.  41 

As  for  the  necessity  of  this  art,  it  is  evident  enough, 
since  this  can  live  without  all  others,  and  no  one  other 
without  this.  This  is  like  speech,  without  which  the 
society  of  men  cannot  be  preserved ;  the  others,  like 
figures  and  tropes  of  speech,  which  serve  only  to  adorn 
it.  ]\Iany  nations  have  lived,  and  some  do  still,  without 
any  art  but  this  :  not  so  elegantly,  I  confess,  but  still 
they  live ;  and  almost  all  the  other  arts,  which  are  here 
practised,  are  beholding  to  this  for  most  of  their  ma- 
terials. 

The  innocence  of  this  life  is  the  next  thing  for  which 
I  commend  it ;  and  if  husbandmen  preserve  not  that, 
they  are  much  to  blame,  for  no  men  are  so  free  from 
the  temptations  of  iniquity.  They  live  by  what  they  can 
get  by  industry  from  the  earth  ;  and  others,  by  what 
they  can  catch  by  craft  from  men.  They  live  upon  an 
estate  given  them  by  their  mother  ;  and  others,  upon  an 
estate  cheated  from  their  brethren.  They  live,  like 
sheep  and  kine,  by  the  allowances  of  nature  ;  and  others, 
like  wolves  and  foxes,  by  the  acquisitions  of  rapine. 
And,  I  hope,  I  may  affirm  (without  any  offence  to  the 
great)  that  sheep  and  kine  are  very  useful,  and  that 
wolves  and  foxes  are  pernicious  creatures.  They  are, 
without  dispute,  of  all  men,  the  most  quiet  and  least  apt 
to  be  inflamed  to  the  disturbance  of  the  commonwealth  : 
their  manner  of  life  inclines  them,  and  interest  binds 
them,  to  love  peace  :  in  our  late  mad  and  miserable 
civil  wars,  all  other  trades,  even  to  the  meanest,  set 
forth  whole  troops,  and  raised  up  some  great,  com- 
manders, who  became  famous  and  mighty  for  the  mis- 
chiefs they  had  done :  but  I  do  not  remember  the  name 
of  any  one  husbandman,  who  had  so  considerable  a  share 
in  the  twenty  years'  ruin  of  his  countrey,  as  to  deserve 
the  curses  of  his  countrymen. 


42  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 

And  if  great  delights  be  joined  with  so  much  inno- 
cence, I  think  it  is  ill  done  of  men,  not  to  take  them 
here,  where  they  are  so  tame,  and  ready  at  hand,  rather 
than  hunt  for  them  in  courts  and  cities,  where  they  are 
so  wild,  and  the  chase  so  troublesome  and  dangerous. 

We  are  here  among  the  vast  and  noble  scenes  of 
nature ;  we  are  there  among  the  pitiful  shifts  of  policy  : 
we  walk  here  in  the  light  and  open  ways  of  the  divine 
bounty  ;  we  grope  there  in  the  dark  and  confused  la- 
byrinths of  human  malice :  our  senses  are  here  feasted 
with  the  clear  and  genuine  taste  of  their  objects,  which 
are  all  sophisticated  there,  and  for  the  most  part  over- 
whelmed with  their  contraries.  Here,  pleasure  looks 
(methinks)  like  a  beautiful,  constant,  and  modest  wife ; 
it  is  there  an  impudent,  fickle,  and  painted  harlot. 
Here,  is  harmless  and  cheap  plenty ;  there,  guilty  and 
expenseful  luxury. 

I  shall  only  instance  in  one  delight  more,  the  most 
natural  and  best-natured  of  all  others,  a  perpetual  com- 
panion of  the  husbandman;  and  that  is,  the  satisfaction 
of  looking  round  about  him,  and  seeing  nothing  but  th^ 
effects  and  improvements  of  his  own  art  and  diligence  ; 
to  be  always  gathering  of  some  fruits  of  it,  and  at  the 
same  time  to  behold  others  ripening,  and  others  budding : 
to  see  all  his  fields  and  gardens  covered  with  the  beau- 
teous creatures  of  his  own  industry ;  and  to  see,  like 
God,  that  all  his  works  are  good : — 

Hinc  atque  hinc  glomei'antur  Orcades  ;  ipsi 

Agricolfe  taciturn  pertentant  gaudia  pectus.  ^ 

On  his  heart-strings  a  secret  joy  does  strike. 

The  antiquity  of  his  art  is  certainly  not  to   be  con- 

5  Virgil,  .En.  i.  504. 


OF  AGRICULTURE.  43 

tested  bj  any  other.  The  three  first  men  in  the  world, 
were  a  gardener,  a  ploughman,  and  a  grazier ;  and  if 
any  man  object,  that  the  second  of  these  was  a  mur- 
derer, I  desire  he  would  consider,  that  as  soon  as  he  was 
so,  he  quitted  our  profession,  and  turned  builder.  It  is 
for  this  reason,  I  suppose,  that  Ecclesiasticus^  forbids  us 
to  hate  husbandry  ;  because  (says  he)  the  Most  High  has 
created  it.  AVe  were  all  born  to  this  art,  and  taught  by 
nature  to  nourish  our  bodies  by  the  same  earth  out  of 
which  they  were  made,  and  to  which  they  must  return, 
and  pay  at  last  for  their  sustenance. 

Behold  the  original  and  primitive  nobility  of  all  those 
great  persons,  who  are  too  proud  now,  not  only  to  till 
the  ground,  but  almost  to  tread  upon  it.  We  may  talk 
what  we  please  of  lilies,  and  lions  rampant,  and  spread- 
eagles,  in  fields  cTor  or  cVargent ;  but,  if  heraldry  were 
guided  by  reason,  a  plough  in  a  field  arable,'  would  be 
the  most  noble  and  ancient  arms. 

All  these  considerations  make  me  fall  into  the  wonder 
and  complaint  of  Columella,  how  it  should  come  to 
pass  that  all  arts  or  sciences  (for  the  dispute,  which  is 


^  Eccls.  chap.  vii.  15.  "Hate  not  laborious  work,  neither 
husbandry,  which  the  Most  High,  has  nrdainecL^'  This  injunc- 
tion stands  by  itself  in  the  midst  of  various  general  benevolent 
adjurations,  such  as,  "Do  no  evil,  and  no  harm  shall  come  unto 
thee.''  At  verse  21  we  are  told,  "  Let  thy  soul  love  a  good 
servant,"  and  the  hireling,  who  works  for  us,  is  not  to  be  "  neg- 
lected." 

"  Cowley  here  very  happily  assumes  the  language  of  he- 
raldry;  a  little  loosely,  as  we  now  say  or  and  argent  without 
the  article.  The  plough  is  borne  by  several  good  families,  so 
also  the  coulter  or  share,  the  harness,  spade,  mill-rind,  and 
other  implements  of  labour.  Adam,  in  this  sense  {vide  Ham- 
let) was  the  first  gentleman  who  bore  arms,  when  he  used  a 
wooden  spade. 


44  COWLEY'S   ESSAYS. 

an  art,  and  which  a  science,  does  not  belong  to  the  curi- 
osity of  us  husbandmen,)  metaphysic,  physic,  morality, 
mathematics,  logic,  rhetoric,  &c.  which  are  all,  I  grant, 
good  and  useful  faculties,  (except  only  metaphysic, 
which  I  do  not  know  whether  it  be  any  thing  or  no  ;) 
but  even  vaulting,  fencing,  dancing,  attiring,  cookery, 
carving,  and  such  like  vanities,  should  all  have  public 
schools  and  masters,  and  yet  that  we  should  never  see 
or  hear  of  any  man,  who  took  upon  him  the  profession  of 
teaching  this  so  pleasant,  so  virtuous,  so  profitable,  so 
honourable,  so  necessary  art. 

A  man  would  think,  when  he  is  in  serious  humour, 
that  it  were  but  a  vain,  irrational,  and  ridiculous  thing, 
for  a  great  company  of  men  and  women  to  run  up  and 
down  in  a  room  together,  in  a  hundred  several  postures 
and  figures,  to  no  purpose,  and  with  no  design ;  and 
therefore  dancing  was  invented  first,  and  only  practised 
anciently,  in  the  ceremonies  of  the  heathen  religion, 
which  consisted  all  in  mummery  and  madness ;  the  latter 
being  the  chief  glory  of  the  worship,  and  accounted 
divine  inspiration :  this,  I  say,  a  severe  man  would 
think ;  though  I  dare  not  determine  so  far  against  so 
customary  a  part,  now,  of  good -breeding.  And  yet,  who 
is  there  among  our  gentry,  that  does  not  entertain  a 
dancing-master  for  his  children,  as  soon  as  they  are  able 
to  walk  ?  But  did  ever  any  father  provide  a  tutor  for  his 
son,  to  instruct  him  betimes  in  the  nature  and  improve- 
mcDts  of  that  land  which  he  intended  to  leave  him  ? 
That  is  at  least  a  superfluity,  and  this  a  defect,  in  our 
manner  of  education;  and  therefore  I  could  wish  (but 
cannot  in  these  times  much  hope  to  see  it)  that  one  col- 
lege in  each  university  were  erected,  and  appropriated 
to  this  study,  as  well  as  there  are  to  medicine  and  the 
civil  law:  there  would  be  no  need  of  making  a  body  of 


OF  AGRICULTURE.  45 

scholars  and  fellows,  with  certain  endowments,  as  in 
other  colleges  ;  it  would  suffice,  if,  after  the  manner  of 
halls  in  Oxford,  there  were  only  four  professors  consti- 
tuted (for  it  would  be  too  much  work  for  only  one 
master,  or  principal,  as  they  call  him  there)  to  teach 
these  four  parts  of  it:  First,  Aration,  and  all  things  re- 
lating to  it.  Secondly,  Pasturage.  Thirdly,  Gardens, 
Orchards,  Vineyards,  and  Woods.  Fourthly,  all  parts 
of  Rural  Economy,  which  would  contain  the  government 
of  Bees,  Swine,  Poultry,  Decoys,  Ponds,  &c.  and  all  that 
which  Varro  calls  villaticas  pastiones,  together  with  the 
sports  of  the  field  (which  ought  to  be  looked  upon  not 
only  as  pleasures,  but  as  parts  of  house-keeping),  and 
the  domestical  conservation  and  uses  of  all  that  is 
brought  in  by  industry  abroad.  The  business  of  these 
professors  should  not  be,  as  is  commonly  practised  in 
other  arts,  only  to  read  pompous  and  superficial  lectures, 
out  of  Virgil's  Georgics,  Pliny,  Varro,  or  Columella ; 
but  to  instruct  their  pupils  in  the  whole  method  and 
course  of  this  study,  which  might  be  run  through  per- 
haps, with  diligence,  in  a  year  or  two  :  and  the  con- 
tinual succession  of  scholars,  upon  a  moderate  taxation 
for  their  diet,  lodging,  and  learning,  would  be  a  suffi- 
cient constant  revenue  for  maintenance  of  the  house  and 
the  professors,  who  should  be  men  not  chosen  for  the 
ostentation  of  critical  literature,  but  for  solid  and  expe- 
rimental knowledge  of  the  things  they  teach ;  such  men, 
so  industrious  and  public-spirited,  as  I  conceive  Mr. 
Hartlib*  to  be,  if  the  gentleman  be  yet  alive  :  but  it  is 


^  "  A  gentleman,"  writes  Hurd,  "of  whom  it  may  be  enough 
to  say  that  he  had  the  honour  to  live  in  the  friendship  of 
Mede  and  Milton.  The  former  of  these  great  men  addressed 
some  letters  to  him,  and  the  latter  his  Tractate  on  Education." 


46  COWLEY'S  ESSAYS. 

needless  to  speak  further  of  my  thoughts  of  this  design, 
unless  the  present  disposition  of  the  age  allowed  more 
probability  of  bringing  it  into  execution.  What  I  have 
further  to  say  of  the  country  life,  shall  be  borrowed 
from  the  poets,  who  were  always  the  most  faithful  and 
affectionate  friends  to  it.  Poetry  was  born  among  the 
shepherds. 

Xescio  qua  natale  solum  dulcedine  Musas 
Ducit,  et  immemores  non  sinit  esse  sui.^ 

The  Muses  still  love  their  own  native  place ; 
'T  has  seciet  charms,  which  nothing  can  deface. 

The  truth  is,  no  other  place  is  proper  for  their  woric  ; 
one  might  as  well  undertake  to  dance  in  a  crowd,  as  to 
make  good  verses  in  the  midst  of  noise  and  tumult. 

As  well  might  corn,  as  verse,  in  cities  grow ; 
In  vain  the  thankless  glebe  we  plough  and  sow; 
Against  th'  unnatural  soil  in  vain  we  strive  •, 
'Tis  not  a  ground,  in  which  these  plants  will  thrive. 

It  will  bear  nothing  but  the  nettles  or  thorns  of  satire^ 
which  grow  most  naturally  in  the  worst  earth ;  and 
therefore  almost  all  poets,  except  those  who  were  not 
able  to  eat  bread  without  the  bounty  of  great  men,  that 
is,  without  what  they  could  get  by  flattering  of  them, 
have  not  only  withdrawn  themselves  from  the  vices  and 
vanities  of  the  grand  world, 

parilev  vitiisque  jocisque 

Altius  humanis  exeruere  caput,^° 

into  the  innocent  happiness  of  a  retired  life;  but  have 
commended  and  adorned  nothing  so  much  by  their  ever- 

^  Ovid,  I.  Epist.  ex  Pont.  iii.  35. 
^^  Ovid,  Fast.  i.  300. 


OF  AGRICULTURE.  47 

living  poems.  Hesiod  was  the  first  or  second  poet  in 
the  world  that  remains  yet  extant  (if  Homer,  as  some 
think,  preceded  him,  but  I  rather  believe  they  were 
contemporaries)  ;  and  he  is  the  first  writer  too  of  the 
art  of  husbandry  :  "  he  has  contributed  (says  Columella) 
not  a  little  to  our  profession  ;"  I  suppose,  he  means  not 
a  little  honour,  for  the  matter  of  his  instructions  is  not 
very  important :  his  great  antiquity  is  visible  through 
the  gravity  and  simplicity  of  his  style.  The  most  acute 
of  all  his  sayings  concerns  our  purpose  very  much,  and 
is  couched  in  the  reverend  obscurity  of  an  oracle.  VLXeov 
ij/ULorv  TTCLVTUQ,  Thc  half  is  more  than  the  whole.  The 
occasion  of  the  speech  is  this ;  his  brother  Perses  had, 
by  corrupting  some  great  men  (f^aatXeag  cwpo^ayovQ^ 
great  bribe-eaters  he  calls  them),  gotten  from  him  the 
half  of  his  estate.  It  is  no  matter  (says  he)  ;  they  have 
not  done  me  so  much  prejudice,  as  they  imagine  : 

JsrfTiioi,  ovo  'iaaGLV  bcr^j  irkkov  ijixicrv  Travrog, 
Ov8'  oaov  iv  [iaXdxy  ri  /cat  da(podiKo}  fiey'  oveiap, 
'K.pv'^avTeg  yap  txovai  Oi^oi  (Slop  dvOpwTroLai. 

Unhappy  they,  to  whom  God  has  not  reveal'd, 
By  a  strong  light  which  must  their  sense  control, 
That  half  a  great  estate  's  more  than  the  whole . 
Unhappy,  from  whom  still  conceal'd  does  lie, 
Of  roots  and  herbs,  the  wholesome  luxury. 

This  I  conceive  to  be  honest  Hesiod's  meaning.  From 
Homer,  we  must  not  expect  much  concerning  our  affairs. 
He  was  blind,  and  could  neither  work  in  the  country, 
nor  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  it ;  his  helpless  poverty  was 
likeliest  to  be  sustained  in  the  richest  places  ;  he  was  to 
delight  the  Grecians  with  fine  tales  of  the  wars  and  ad- 
ventures of  their  ancestors  ;  his  subject  removed  him 
from  all  commerce  with  us,  and  yet,  methinks,  he  made 
a  shift  to  shew  his  good-will  a  little.     For,  though  he 


48  COWLEY'S   ESSAYS. 

could  do  us  no  honour  in  the  person  of  his  hero  Ulysses 
(much  less  of  Achilles),  because  his  whole  time  was  con- 
sumed in  wars  and  voyages ;  yet  he  makes  his  father 
Laertes  a  gardener  all  that  while,  and  seeking  his  con- 
solation for  the  absence  of  his  son  in  the  pleasure  of 
planting,  and  even  dunging  his  own  grounds.  Ye  see, 
he  did  not  contemn  us  peasants ;  nay,  so  far  was  he 
from  that  insolence,  that  he  always  styles  Eumceus,  who 
kept  the  hogs,  with  wonderful  respect,  c~iov  ixpopjjov,  the 
divine  swine  herd :  he  could  have  done  no  more  for 
Menelaus  or  Agamemnon.  And  Theocritus  (a  very 
ancient  poet,  but  he  was  one  of  our  own  tribe,  for  he 
wrote  nothing  but  pastorals)  gave  the  same  epithet  to 
an  husbandman, 

—  d/tEi/Sfro  Slog  aypdjTrjg.^^ 

The  divine  husbandman  replied  to  Hercules,  who  was 
but  cl.og^  himself.  These  were  civil  Greeks,  and  who 
understood  the  dignity  of  our  calling !  Among  the 
Romans  we  have,  in  the  first  place,  our  truly  divine 
Virgil,  who,  though,  by  the  favour  of  Maecenas  and 
Augustus,  he  might  have  been  one  of  the  chief  men  of 
Rome,  yet  chose  rather  to  employ  much  of  his  time  in 
the  exercise,  and  much  of  his  immortal  wit  in  the  praise 
and  instructions,  of  a  rustic  life ;  who,  though  he  had 
written,  before,  whole  books  of  pastorals  and  georgics, 
could  not  abstain,  in  his  great  and  imperial  poem,  from 
describing  Evander,  one  of  his  best  princes,  as  living 
just  after  the  homely  manner  of  an  ordinary  country- 
man. He  seats  him  in  a  throne  of  maple,  and  lays  him 
but  upon  a  bear's  skin ;  the  kine  and  oxen  are  lowing 

'^  Theocritus,  Idyll  xxv,  v.   51.     The  context  contains  a 
sufficient  translation. 


OF   AGRICULTURE.  49 

in  his  court-yard ;  the  birds  under  the  eves  of  his 
window  call  him  up  in  the  morning  ;  and  when  he  goes 
abroad,  only  two  dogs  go  along  with  him  for  his  guard : 
at  last,  when  he  brings  ^Eneas  into  his  royal  cottage,  he 
makes  him  say  this  memorable  compliment,  greater  than 
ever  yet  was  spoken  at  the  Escurial,  the  Louvre,  or  our 
Whitehall : 

—  Hsec  (inquit)  liraina  victor 
Alcides  subiit,  hsec  ilium  regia  cepit : 
Aude,  hospes,  contemnere  opes :  et  te  quoque  dignum 
Finge  Deo,  rebiisque  veni  nou  asper  egenis,'^ 

This  humble  roof,  this  rustic  court,  (said  he) 
Receir'd  Alcides,  crown'd  with  victory : 
Scorn  not,  great  guest,  the  steps  where  he  has  trod  ; 
But  contemn  wealth,  and  imitate  a  God. 

The  next  man,  whom  we  are  much  obliged  to,  both 
for  his  doctrine  and  example,  is  the  next  best  poet  in 
the  world  to  VirgiP,  his  dear  friend  Horace ;  who,  when 
Augustus  had  desired  Maecenas  to  persuade  him  to  come 
and  live  domestically  and  at  the  same  table  with  him, 
and  to  be  secretary  of  state  of  the  whole  world  under 
him,  or  rather  jointly  with  him,  for  he  says,  "  ut  nos  in 
epistolis  scribendis  adjuvet,"  could  not  be  tempted  to 
forsake  his  Sabine,  or  Tiburtin  manor,  for  so  rich  and 
so  glorious  a  trouble.  There  was  never,  I  think,  such 
an  example  as  this  in  the  world,  that  he  should  have  so 
much  moderation  and  courage  as  to  refuse  an  offer  of 
such  greatness,  and  the  emperor  so  much  generosity  and 
good-nature  as  not  to  be  at  all  offended  with  his  refusal, 
but  to  retain  still  the  same  kindness,  and  express  it  often 
to  him  in  most  friendly  and  familiar  letters,  part  of 


Virgil,  iEueid  viii.  365. 

E 


5©  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 

which  are  still  extant.  If  I  should  produce  all  the  pas- 
sages of  this  excellent  author  upon  the  several  subjects 
which  I  treat  of  in  this  book,  I  must  be  obliged  to  trans- 
late half  his  works  ;  of  which  I  may  say  more  truly 
than,  in  my  opinion,  he  did  of  Homer, 

Qui,  quid  sit  pulchrum,  quid  turpe,  quid  utile,  quid  non, 
Planius  et  melius  Chrysippo  et  Crantore  dicit.'^ 

I  shall  content  myself  upon  this  particular  theme 
with  three  only,  one  out  of  his  Odes,  the  other  out  of 
his  Satires,  the  third  out  of  his  Epistles  ;  and  shall  for- 
bear to  collect  the  suffrages  of  all  other  poets,  which 
may  be  found  scattered  up  and  down  through  all  their 
writings,  and  especially  in  Martial's.  But  I  must  not 
omit  to  make  some  excuse  for  the  bold  undertaking  of 
my  own  unskilful  pencil  upon  the  beauties  of  a  face  that 
has  been  drawn  before  by  so  many  great  masters ; 
especially,  that  I  should  dare  to  do  it  in  Latin  verses 
(though  of  another  kind),  and  have  the  confidence  to 
translate  them.  I  can  only  say  that  I  love  the  matter, 
and  that  ought  to  cover  many  faults ;  and  that  I  run 
not  to  contend  with  those  before  me,  but  follow  to 
applaud  them. 


"  Ep.  I.  ii.  3.  Horace  in  this  Epistle  says  boldly  that  to  all 
philosophers  and  teachers  he  prefers,  as  a  moral  writer.  Homer, 
"  who  teaches  more  clearly  and  better  than  Chrysippus  and 
Grantor  (eminent  moral  teachers)  what  is  praiseworthy,  base, 
useful,  or  the  contrary." 


I 


OF  AGRICULTURE.  51 

A  TRANSLATI0:N^  out  of  VIRGIL. 

Georg.  Lib.  II.  458, 

|H  happy  (if  his  happiness  he  knows) 
The  country  swain,  on  whom  kind  heav'n  bestows 
At  home  all  riches,  that  wise  nature  needs ; 
Whom  the  just  earth  with  easy  plenty  feeds. 
'Tis  true,  no  morning  tide  of  clients  comes, 
And  fills  the  painted  channels  of  his  rooms. 
Adoring  the  rich  figures,  as  they  pass, 
In  tap'stry  wrought,  or  cut  in  living  brass  ; 
Nor  is  his  wool  superfluously  dy'd 
With  the  dear  poison  of  Assyrian  pride  : 
Nor  do  Arabian  perfumes  vainly  spoil 
The  native  use  and  sweetness  of  his  oil. 
Instead  of  these,  his  calm  and  harmless  life, 
Free  from  th'  alarms  of  fear,  and  storms  of  strife, 
Does  with  substantial  blessedness  abound, 
And  the  soft  wings  of  peace  cover  him  round  ; 
Through  artless  grots  the  murmuring  waters  glide  ; 
Thick  trees  both  against  heat  and  cold  provide. 
From  whence  the  birds  salute  him  ;  and  his  ground 
With  lowing  herds,  and  bleating  sheep,  does  sound ; 
And  all  the  rivers,  and  the  forests  nigh, 
Both  food,  and  game,  and  exercise,  supply. 
Here,  a  well-harden'd  active  youth  we  see. 
Taught  the  great  art  of  cheerful  poverty. 
Here,  in  this  place  alone,  there  still  do  shine 
Some  streaks  of  love,,  both  human  and  divine  ; 
From  hence  Astrsea  took  her  flight,  and  here 
Still  her  last  foot-steps  upon  earth  appear. 


52  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 

'Tis  true,  the  first  desire,  which  does  controul 

All  the  inferior  wheels  that  move  my  soul, 

Is,  that  the  Muse  me  her  high  priest  would  make, 

Into  her  holiest  scenes  of  mystery  take,  « 

And  open  there  to  my  mind's  purged  eye  V 

Those  wonders,  which  to  sense  the  gods  deny. 

How  in  the  moon  such  change  of  shapes  is  found  ; 

The  moon,  the  changing  world's  eternal  bound. 

What  shakes  the  solid  earth,  what  strong  disease 

Dares  trouble  the  firm  centre's  ancient  ease ; 

AVhat  makes  the  sea  retreat,  and  what  advance  : 

"  Varieties  too  regular  for  chance."  ^^ 

What  drives  the  chariot  on  of  winter's  light, 

And  stops  the  lazy  waggon  of  the  night. 

But,  if  my  dull  and  frozen  blood  deny 

To  send  forth  spirits,  that  raise  a  soul  so  high ! 

In  the  next  place,  let  woods  and  rivers  be  i 

My  quiet,  though  inglorious,  destiny.  I 

In  life's  cool  vale  let  my  low  scene  be  laid  : 

Cover  me,  gods,  with  Tempe's  thickest  shade. 

Happy  the  man,  I  grant,  thrice  happy  he, 

Who  can  through  gross  efiects  their  causes  see : 

Whose  courage  from  the  deeps  of  knowledge  springs. 

Nor  vainly  fears  inevitable  things ; 

But  does  his  walk  of  virtue  calmly  go 

Through  all  th'  alarms  of  death  and  hell  below. 

Happy !  but,  next  such  conquerors,  happy  they, 

Whose  humble  life  lies  not  in  fortune's  way. 


'*  Here  is  a  parallel  to  Dryden,  although  the  argument  really 
only  proves  a  natural  law  whence,  indeed,  we  may  assume  a 
lawgiver : — 

"  Or  various  atoms,  interfering  dance, 
Leapt  into  form  the  noble  work  of  chance." 


OF   AGRICULTURE.  53 

They,  unconcern'd,  from  their  safe  distant  seat 
Behold  the  rods  and  sceptres  of  the  great. 
The  quarrels  of  the  mighty  without  fear, 
And  the  descent  of  foreign  troops  they  hear. 
Nor  can  ev'n  Rome  their  steady  course  misguide. 
With  all  the  lustre  of  her  perishing  pride. 
Them  never  yet  did  strife  or  avarice  draw 
Into  the  noisy  markets  of  the  law, 
The  camps  of  gowned  war ;  nor  do  they  live 
By  rules  or  forms,  that  many  madmen  give. 
Duty  for  nature's  bounty  they  repay. 
And  her  sole  laws  religiously  obey. 

Some  with  bold  labour  plough  the  faithless  main. 
Some  rougher  storms  in  princes'  courts  sustain. 
Some  swell  up  their  slight  sails  with  popular  fame, 
Charm'd  with  the  foolish  whistlings  of  a  name.'^ 
Some  theii*  vain  wealth  to  earth  again  commit  ; 
With  endless  cares  some  brooding  o'er  it  sit. 
Countrey  and  friends  are  by  some  wretches  sold. 
To  lie  on  Tyrian  beds,  and  drink  in  gold ; 
No  price  too  high  for  profit  can  be  shown ; 
Not  brother's  blood,  nor  hazards  of  their  own. 
Around  the  world  in  search  of  it  they  roam  ; 
It  makes  ev'n  their  antipodes  their  home  ; 
Meanwhile,  the  prudent  husbandman  is  found, 
In  mutual  duties,  striving  with  his  ground, 
And  half  the  year  the  care  of  that  does  take. 
That  half  the  year  grateful  returns  does  make. 


'^  Pope  has  imitated  this  line,  and  added  to  it  another  which 
is  untrue : — 

"  Or  ravished  with  the  whistlings  of  a  name, 
See  Cromwell  damned  to  everlasting  fame." 

Essuy  on  JIan,  iv.  282. 


54  COWLEY'S   ESSAYS. 

Each  fertile  month  does  some  new  gifts  present, 

And  with  new  work  his  industry  content. 

This,  the  young  lamb,  that  the  soft  fleece  doth  yield ; 

This,  loads  with  hay,  and  that,  with  corn,  the  field ; 

All  sorts  of  fruit  crown  the  rich  autumn's  pride ; 

And  on  a  swelling  hill's  warm  stony  side, 

The  powerful  princely  purple  of  the  vine, 

Twice  dy'd  with  the  redoubled  sun,  does  shine. 

In  th'  evening  to  a  fair  ensuing  day, 

With  joy  he  sees  his  flocks  and  kids  to  play ; 

And  loaded  kine  about  his  cottage  stand, 

Inviting  with  known  sound  the  milker's  hand ; 

And,  when  from  wholesome  labour  he  doth  come, 

With  wishes  to  be  there,  and  wish'd  for  home, 

He  meets  at  door  the  softest  human  blisses. 

His  chaste  wife's  welcome,  and  dear  children's  kisses. 

When  any  rural  holidays  invite 

His  genius  forth  to  innocent  delight, 

On  earth's  fair  bed,  beneath  some  sacred  shade, 

Amidst  his  equal  friends  carelessly  laid, 

He  sings  thee,  Bacchus,  patron  of  the  vine. 

The  beechen  bowl  foams  with  a  flood  of  wine, 

Not  to  the  loss  of  reason,  or  of  strength : 

To  active  games  and  manly  sport,  at  length, 

Their  mirth  ascends,  and  with  fill'd  veins  they  see. 

Who  can  the  best  at  better  trials  be. 

From  such  the  old  Hetrurian  virtue  rose ; 

Such  was  the  life  the  prudent  Sabines  chose ; 

Such,  Rhemus  and  the  god,  his  brother,  led ; 

From  such  firm  footing  Rome  grew  the  world's  head.^*^ 

'^  Cowley  omits  a  line  which  follows  this  in  the  original,  as 
pointed  out  by  Hurd : — 

"  Septemque  una  sibi  muro  circumdedit  arces." 


OF  AGRICULTURE.  55 

Such  was  the  life  that,  ev'n  till  now,  does  raise 
The  honour  of  poor  Saturn's  golden  days. 
Before  men,  born  of  earth  and  buried  there. 
Let  in  the  sea  their  mortal  fate  to  share  : 
Before  new  ways  of  perishing  were  sought, 
Before  unskilful  death  on  anvils  wrought : 
Before  those  beasts,  which  human  life  sustain, 
By  men,  unless  to  the  gods'  use,  were  slain. 


HOR.  EPOD.  ODE  II. 

jAPPY  the  man,  whom  bounteous  gods  allow 
With  his  own  hands  paternal  grounds  to  plough  ! 
Like  the  first  golden  mortals  happy,  he. 
From  business  and  the  cares  of  money  free  ! 
No  human  storms  break  off,  at  land,  his  sleep ; 
No  loud  alarms  of  nature  on  the  deep : 
From  all  the  cheats  of  law  he  lives  secure, 
Nor  does  th'  affronts  of  palaces  endure  ; 
Sometimes,  the  beauteous  marriageable  vine 
He  to  the  lusty  bridegroom  elm  does  join  ; 
Sometimes,  he  lops  the  barren  trees  around, 
And  grafts  new  life  into  the  fruitful  wound ; 
Sometimes,  he  shears  his  flock,  and,  sometimes,  he 
Stores  up  the  golden  treasures  of  the  bee. 
He  sees  his  lowing  herds  walk  o'er  the  plain, 
Whilst  neighbouring  hills  low  back  to  them  again  ; 
And  when  the  season,  rich  as  well  as  gay. 
All  her  autumnal  bounty  does  display, 
How  is  he  pleas'd  th'  increasing  use  to  see, 
Of  his  well-trusted  labours,  bend  the  tree ! 
Of  which  large  shares,  on  the  glad  sacred  days. 
He  gives  to  friends,  and  to  the  gods  repays. 


56  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 

With  how  much  joy  does  he,  beneath  some  shade 
By  aged  trees'  reverend  embraces  made, 
His  careless  head  on  the  fresh  green  recline. 
His  head  uncharged  with  fear  or  with  design. 
By  him  a  river  constantly  complains. 
The  birds  above  rejoice  with  various  strains. 
And  in  the  solemn  scene  their  orgies  keep, 
Like  dreams,  mix'd  with  the  gravity  of  sleep  ; 
Sleep,  which  does  always  there  for  entrance  wait, 
And  nought  within  against  it  shuts  the  gate. 

Nor  does  the  roughest  season  of  the  sky. 
Or  sullen  Jove,  all  sports  to  him  deny. 
He  runs  the  mazes  of  the  nimble  hare, 
His  well-mouth'd  dogs'  glad  concert  rends  the  air 
Or  with  game  bolder,  and  rewarded  more, 
Pie  drives  into  a  toil  the  foaming  boar ; 
Here  flies  the  hawk  t'assault,  and  there  the  net, 
To  intercept  the  travailing  fowl,  is  set ; 
And  all  his  malice,  all  his  craft,  is  shown 
In  innocent  wars,  on  beasts  and  birds  alone ; 
This  is  the  life  from  all  misfortunes  free. 
From  thee,  the  great  one,  tyrant  love,  from  thee ; 
And,  if  a  chaste  and  clean,  though  homely,  wife 
Be  added  to  the  blessings  of  this  life. 
Such  as  the  antient  sun-burnt  Sabins  were, 
Such  as  Apulia,  frugal  still,  does  bear. 
Who  makes  her  children  and  the  house  her  care, 
And  joyfully  the  work  of  life  does  share, 
Nor  thinks  herself  too  noble  or  too  fine 
To  pin  the  sheepfold  or  to  milch  the  kine. 
Who  waits  at  door  against  her  husband  come 
From  rural  duties,  late,  and  wearied  home, 
Where  she  receives  him  with  a  kind  embrace, 
A  chearful  fire,  and  a  more  chearful  face  ; 


OF   AGRICULTURE.  57 

And  fills  the  bowl  up  to  her  homely  lord, 
And  with  domestic  plenty  loads  the  board : 
Not  all  the  lustful  shell-fish  of  the  sea, 
Dress'd  by  the  wanton  hand  of  luxury, 
Nor  ortolans  nor  godwits,  nor  the  rest 
Of  costly  names  that  glorify  a  feast. 
Are  at  the  princely  tables  better  chear, 
Than  lamb  and  kid,  lettuce  and  olives,  here. 


THE  COUNTEY  MOUSE. 

A  PaPwVPhrase  upon  Horace,  Book  IT.  Sat.  VI. 
if?^T  the  large  foot  of  a  fair  hollow  tree, 

w 


Close  to  plough'd  ground,  seated  commodiously, 

His  antient  and  hereditary  house. 
There  dwelt  a  good  substantial  country  mouse ; 
Frugal,  and  grave,  and  careful  of  the  main, 
Yet  one  who  once  did  nobly  entertain 
A  city  mouse,  well  coated,  sleek,  and  gay, 
A  mouse  of  high  degree,  which  lost  bis  way, 
Wantonly  walking  forth  to  take  the  air. 
And  arriv'd  early,  and  belighted  there, 
For  a  day's  lodging  :  the  good  hearty  host, 
(The  antient  plenty  of  his  hall  to  boast) 
Did  all  the  stores  produce,  that  might  excite, 
With  various  tastes,  the  courtier's  appetite. 
Fitches  and  beans,  peason,  and  oats,  and  wheat. 
And  a  large  chestnut,  the  delicious  meat 
Which  Jove  himself,  were  he  a  mouse,  would  eat. 
And,  for  a  liavt  gout,  there  was  mixt  with  these 
The  swerd  of  bacon,  and  the  coat  of  cheese  : 
The  precious  reliques,  which,  at  harvest,  he 
Had  gather'd  from  the  reapers'  luxury. 


58  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 

Freely  (said  he)  fall  on,  and  never  spare, 

The  bounteous  gods  will  for  to-morrow  care. 

And  thus  at  ease,  on  beds  of  straw,  they  lay, 

And  to  their  genius  sacrific'd  the  day  : 

Yet  the  nice  guest's  epicurean  mind, 

(Though  breeding  made  him  civil  seem,  and  kind) 

Despis'd  this  country  feast ;  and  still  his  thought 

Upon  the  cakes  and  pies  of  London  wrought. 

Your  bounty  and  civility,  (said  he) 

Which  I'm  surpris'd  in  these  rude  parts  to  see. 

Shews  that  the  gods  have  given  you  a  mind 

Too  noble  for  the  fate,  Avhich  here  you  find. 

Why  should  a  soul,  so  virtuous,  and  so  great. 

Lose  itself  thus  in  an  obscure  retreat  ? 

Let  savage  beasts  lodge  in  a  country  den ; 

You  should  see  towns,  and  manners  know,  and  men  ; 

And  taste  the  generous  luxury  of  the  court. 

Where  all  the  mice  of  quality  resort ; 

"N^Tiere  thousand  beauteous  shes  about  you  move. 

And,  by  high  fare,  are  pliant  made  to  love. 

We  all,  ere  long,  must  render  up  our  breath ; 

No  cave  or  hole  can  shelter  us  from  death. 

Since  life  is  so  uncertain,  and  so  short. 
Let's  spend  it  all  in  feasting  and  in  sport. 
Come,  worthy  sir,  come  with  me,  and  partake 
All  the  great  things,  that  mortals  happy  make. 

Alas  !  what  virtue  hath  sufficient  arms, 
T'oppose  bright  honour,  and  soft  pleasure's  charms  ? 
What  wisdom  can  their  magic  force  repel  ? 
It  draws  this  reverend  hermit  from  his  cell. 
It  was  the  time,  when  witty  poets  tell, 
"  That  Phoebus  into  Thetis'  bosom  fell : 
She  blush'd  at  first,  and  then  put  out  the  light. 
And  drew  the  modest  curtains  of  the  night." 


OF  AGRICULTURE.  59 

Plainly  the  troth  to  tell,  the  sun  was  set. 

When  to  the  town  our  wearied  travellers  get, 

To  a  lord's  house,  as  lordly  as  can  be, 

Made  for  the  use  of  pride  and  luxury. 

They  come  ;  the  gentle  courtier  at  the  door 

Stops,  and  will  hardly  enter  in  before. 

But  'tis,  sir,  your  command,  and  being  so, 

I'm  sworn  t'  obedience  ;  and  so  in  they  go. 

Behind  a  hanging  in  a  spacious  room, 

(The  richest  work  of  Mortclake's  noble  loom) 

They  wait  awhile  their  wearied  limbs  to  rest, 

Till  silence  should  invite  them  to  their  feast. 

"  About  the  hour  that  Cynthia's  silver  light 

Had  touch'd  the  pale  meridies  of  the  night," 

At  last,  the  various  supper  being  done. 

It  happen'd  that  the  company  was  gone 

Into  a  room  remote,  servants  and  all. 

To  please  their  noble  fancies  with  a  ball. 

Our  host  leads  forth  his  stranger,  and  does  find 

All  fitted  to  the  bounties  of  his  mind. 

Still  on  the  table  half-filFd  dishes  stood. 

And  with  delicious  bits  the  floor  was  strew'd. 

The  courteous  mouse  presents  him  with  the  best. 

And  both  with  fat  varieties  are  blest. 

Th'  industrious  peasant  every  where  does  range, 

And  thanks  the  gods  for  his  life's  happy  change. 

Lo  !  in  the  midst  of  a  well-freighted  pie. 

They  both  at  last  glutted  and  wanton  lie. 

When  see  the  sad  reverse  of  prosperous  fate. 

And  what  fierce  storms  on  mortal  glories  wait ! 

With  hideous  noise,  down  the  rude  servants  come. 

Six  dogs  before  run  barking  into  th'  room ; 

The  wretched  gluttons  fly  with  wild  affright, 

And  hate  the  fulness  which  retards  their  flight. 


6o  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 

Our  trembling  peasant  wishes  now  in  vain, 
That  rocks  and  mountains  cover'd  him  again. 
Oh  how  the  change  of  his  poor  life  he  curst ! 
This,  of  all  lives  (said  he)  is  sure  the  worst. 
Give  me  again,  ye  gods,  my  cave  and  wood ; 
With  peace,  let  tares  and  acorns  be  my  food. 


A    PARAPHRASE    UPON   THE  10th  EPISTLE 
OF  THE  rmST  BOOK  OF  HORACE. 

HORACE  TO  FUSCUS  ARISTIUS. 

^EALTH,  from  the  lover  of  the  country,  me. 
Health  to  the  lover  of  the  city,  thee  ; 
A  difference  in  our  souls,  this  only  proves  ; 
In  all  things  else,  we  agree  like  married  doves. 
But  the  warm  nest  and  crowded  dove-house  thou 
Dost  like ;  I  loosely  fly  from  bough  to  bough, 
And  rivers  drink,  and  all  the  shining  day. 
Upon  fair  trees  or  mossy  rocks,  I  play ; 
In  fine,  I  live  and  reign,  when  I  retire 
From  all  that  you  equal  with  heaven  admire. 
Like  one  at  last  from  the  priest's  service  fled. 
Loathing  the  honied  cakes,  I  long  for  bread. 
"Would  I  a  house  for  happiness  erect, 
Nature  alone  should  be  the  architect, 
She'd  build  it  more  convenient,  than  great. 
And,  doubtless,  in  the  country  choose  her  seat. 
Is  there  a  place,  doth  better  helps  supply, 
Against  the  wounds  of  winter's  cruelty  ? 
Is  there  an  air,  that  gentlier  does  assuage 
The  mad  celestial  dosf's,  or  lion's  rase  ? 


OF  AGRICULTURE. 

Is  it  not  there  that  sleep  (and  only  there) 
Xor  noise  without,  nor  cares  within,  does  fear  ? 
Does  art  through  pipes  a  purer  water  bring. 
Than  that,  which  nature  strains  into  a  spring  ? 
Can  all  your  tap'stries,  or  your  pictures,  show 
More  beauties,  than  in  herbs  and  flowers  do  groi 
Fountains  and  trees  our  wearied  pride  do  please. 
Even  in  the  midst  of  gilded  palaces. 
And  in  your  towns,  that  prospect  gives  delight. 
Which  opens  round  the  country  to  our  sight. 
Men  to  the  good,  from  which  they  rashly  fly, 
Return  at  last ;  and  their  wild  luxury 
Does  but  in  vain  with  those  true  joys  contend, 
Which  nature  did  to  mankind  recommend. 
The  man,  who  changes  gold  for  burnish'd  brass, 
Or  small  right  gems  for  larger  ones  of  glass. 
Is  not,  at  length,  more  certain  to  be  made 
Ridiculous,  and  wretched  by  the  trade. 
Than  he,  who  sells  a  solid  good,  to  buy 
The  painted  goods  of  pride  and  vanity. 
If  thou  be  wise,  no  glorious  fortune  choose, 
Which  'tis  but  pain  to  keep,  yet  grief  to  lose. 
For,  when  we  place  even  trifles  in  the  heart. 
With  trifles  too,  unwillingly  we  part. 
An  humble  roof,  plain  bed,  and  homely  board. 
More  clear,  untainted  pleasures  do  afford, 
Than  all  the  tumult  of  vain  greatness  brings 
To  kinors,  or  to  the  favorites  of  kinors.'" 


'^  Pope  has  imitated  this  line,  and  has  made  it  stronger,  but 
more  vulgar : — 

"  Stuck  o'er  with  titles  and  hung  round  with  stings, 
That  thou  may'st  be  by  kings,  or  whores  of  kings." 
Essay  on  Man,  Ep.  iv.  1.  206. 


62  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 

The  horned  deer,  by  nature  arni'd  so  well, 
Did  with  the  horse  in  common  pasture  dwell ; 
And,  when  they  fought,  the  field  it  always  wan, 
Till  the  ambitious  horse  begg'd  help  of  man. 
And  took  the  bridle,  and  thenceforth  did  reign 
Bravely  alone,  as  lord  of  all  the  plain  ; 
But  never  after  could  the  rider  get 
From  olF  his  back,  or  from  his  mouth  the  bit. 
So  they,  who  poverty  too  much  do  fear, 
T'  avoid  that  weight,  a  greater  burden  bear ; 
That  they  might  power  above  their  equals  have. 
To  cruel  masters  they  themselves  enslave. 
For  gold,  their  liberty  exchanged  we  see. 
That  fairest  flower,  which  crowns  humanity. 
And  all  this  mischief  does  upon  them  light. 
Only  because  they  know  not  how,  aright. 
That  great,  but  secret,  happiness  to  prize, 
That 's  laid  up  in  a  little,  for  the  wise  : 
That  is  the  best  and  easiest  estate. 
Which  to  a  man  sits  close,  but  not  too  strait ; 
'Tis  like  a  shoe  ;  it  pinches,  and  it  burns, 
Too  narrow  ;  and  too  large,  it  overturns. 
My  dearest  friend,  stop  thy  desires  at  last. 
And  chearfuUy  enjoy  the  wealth  thou  hast. 
And,  if  me  still  seeking  for  more  you  see. 
Chide,  and  reproach,  despise  and  laugh  at  me. 
Money  was  made,  not  to  command  our  will. 
But  all  our  lawful  pleasures  to  fulfil. 
Shame  and  woe  to  us,  if  we  our  wealth  obey ; 
The  horse  doth  with  the  horseman  run  away. 


OF   AGRICULTURE.  63 

THE  COUNTRY  LIFE. 

Lib.  IV.  Plant  ARUM. 

|LEST  be  the  man  (and  blest  he  is)  whom  e'er 
(Plac'd  far  out  of  the  roads  of  hope  or  fear) 
A  little  field,  and  little  garden,  feeds  : 
The  field  gives  all  that  frugal  nature  needs  ; 
The  wealthy  garden  liberally  bestows 
All  she  can  ask,  when  she  luxurious  grows. 
The  specious  inconveniences,  that  wait 
Upon  a  life  of  business,  and  of  state, 
He  sees  (nor  does  the  sight  disturb  his  rest) 
By  fools  desir'd,  by  wicked  men  possest. 
Thus,  thus  (and  this  deserv'd  great  Virgil's  praise) 
The  old  Corycian  yeoman  pass'd  his  days ; 
Thus  his  wise  life  Abdolonymus  spent : 
Th'  ambassadors,  which  the  great  emperor  sent 
To  offer  him  a  crown,  with  wonder  found 
The  reverend  gard'ner  hoeing  of  his  ground  ; 
Unwillingly  and  slow  and  discontent. 
From  his  lov'd  cottage,  to  a  throne  he  went. 
And  oft  he  stopt  in  his  triumphant  way, 
And  oft  look'd  back,  and  oft  was  heard  to  say, 
Not  without  sighs,  Alas,  I  there  forsake 
A  happier  kingdom  than  I  go  to  take ! 
Thus  Aglalis  (a  man  unknown  to  men, 
But  the  gods  knew,  and  therefore  lov'd  him  then,) 
Thus  liv'd  obscurely  then  without  a  name, 
Aglaiis,  now  consign'd  t'  eternal  fame. 
For  Gyges,  the  rich  king,  wicked  and  great, 
Presum'd,  at  wise  Apollo's  Delphic  seat 


64  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 

Presum'd,  to  ask,  Oh  thou,  the  whole  world's  eye, 
See'st  thou  a  man,  that  happier  is  than  I  ? 
The  god,  who  scorn'd  to  flatter  men,  reply'd, 
Aglaiis  happier  is.     But  Gyges  cry'd, 
In  a  proud  rage,  who  can  that  Aglaiis  be  ? 
AVe  have  heard,  as  yet,  of  no  such  king  as  he. 
And  true  it  was,  through  the  whole  earth  around 
No  king  of  such  a  name  was  to  be  found. 
Is  some  old  hero  of  that  name  alive, 
Who  his  high  race  does  from  the  gods  derive  ? 
Is  it  some  mighty  general,  that  has  done 
Wonders  in  fight,  and  god-like  honours  won  ? 
Is  it  some  man  of  endless  wealth,  said  he  ? 
None,  none  of  these.     Who  can  this  Aglaiis  be  ? 
After  long  search,  and  vain  inquiries  past. 
In  an  obscure  Arcadian  vale  at  last, 
(Th'  Arcadian  life  has  always  shady  been) 
Near  Sopho's  town  (which  he  but  once  had  seen) 
This  Aglaiis,  who  monarchs'  envy  drew, 
Whose  happiness  the  gods  stood  witness  to. 
This  mighty  Aglaiis  was  labouring  found. 
With  his  own  hands,  in  his  own  little  ground. 

So,  gracious  God,  (if  it  may  lawful  be. 
Among  those  foolish  gods  to  mention  thee) 
So  let  me  act,  on  such  a  private  stage, 
The  last  dull  scenes  of  my  declining  age ; 
After  long  toils  and  voyages  in  vain, 
This  quiet  port,  let  my  tost  vessel  gain ; 
Of  heavenly  rest,  this  earnest  to  me  lend. 
Let  my  life  sleep,  and  learn  to  love  her  end. 


V. 


THE    GARDEN. 

TO  J.  EVELYX,  ESQ.' 

NEVER  bad  any  other  desire  so  strong,  and 
so  like  to  covetousness,  as  that  one  which  I 
have  had  always,  that  I  might  be  master  at 
last  of  a  small  house  and  large  garden,'^  with 
very  moderate  conveniences  joined  to  them,  and  there 
dedicate  the  remainder  of  my  life  only  to  the  culture  of 
them,  and  study  of  nature  ; 

And  there  (with  no  design  beyond  my  wall)  whole  and  intire 

to  lie, 
In  no  ixnactive  ease,  and  no  unglorious  poverty. 


'  John  Evelyn,  now  most  known  as  the  author  of  the  "  Diary," 
but  in  Cowley's  time  more  celebrated  as  the  writer  of  "  Sylva, 
or  a  Discourse  on  Forest  Trees ;"  to  him,  therefore,  this  essay  is 
very  fitlv  inscribed. 

2'  So  also  Swift,— 

I've  often  wished  that  I  had  clear, 
For  life,  six  hundred  pounds  a  year, 
A  handsome  house  to  lodge  a  friend, 
A  terrace  at  my  garden's  end. 


66  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 

Or,  as  Virgil  has  said,  shorter  and  better  for  me,  that 
I  might  there 

"  Studiis  florere  ignobilis  oti;"^ 

(though  I  could  wish  that  he  had  rather  said,  "  Nobilis 
oti,"  when  he  spoke  of  his  own.)  But  several  accidents 
of  my  ill  fortune  have  disappointed  me  hitherto,  and 
do  still,  of  that  felicity ;  for  though  I  have  made  the 
first  and  hardest  step  to  it,  by  abandoning  all  ambitions 
and  hopes  in  this  world,  and  by  retiring  from  the  noise 
of  all  business  and  almost  company,  yet  I  stick  still  in 
the  inn  of  a  hired  house  and  garden,  among  weeds  and 
rubbish :  and  without  that  pleasantest  work  of  human 
industry,  the  improvement  of  something  which  we  call 
(not  very  properly,  but  yet  we  call)  our  own.  I  am 
gone  out  from  Sodom,  but  I  am  not  yet  arrived  at  my 
little  Zoar.  O  let  me  escape  thither  {is  it  not  a  little  one  .^) 
and  my  soul  shall  live.  I  do  not  look  back  yet ;  but  I 
have  been  forced  to  stop,  and  make  too  many  halts. 
You  may  wonder.  Sir,  (for  this  seems  a  little  too  ex- 
travagant and  pindarical  for  prose)  what  I  mean  by  all 
this  preface  ;  it  is  to  let  you  know,  that  though  I  have 
missed,  like  a  chemist,  my  great  end,  yet  I  account  my 
affections  and  endeavours  well  rewarded  by  something 
that  I  have  met  with  by  the  bye  ;  which  is,  that  they 
have  procured  to  me  some  part  in  your  kindness  and 
esteem ;  and  thereby  the  honour  of  having  my  name  so 
advantageously  recommended  to  posterity,  by  the  epistle 
you  are  pleased  to  prefix  to  the  most  useful  book  that 
has  been  written  in  that  kind,  and  which  is  to  last  as 
long  as  months  and  years.* 

^  Virgil,  Georg.  iv.  564.     Cowley  gives  the  sense  in  the  two 
lines  above. 

*  Evelyn  had  dedicated  to  Cowley  his  ^' Kalendarium  Hor- 


OF    THE    GARDEN.  67 

Among  many  other  arts  and  excellencies,  which  you 
enjoy,  I  am  glad  to  find  this  favourite  of  mine  the  most 
predominant ;  that  you  choose  this  for  your  wife,  though 
you  have  hundreds  of  other  arts  for  your  concubines ; 
though  you  know  them,  and  beget  sons  upon  them  all 
(to  which,  you  are  rich  enough  to  allow  great  legacies), 
yet,  the  issue  of  this  seems  to  be  designed  by  you  to  the 
main  of  the  estate ;  you  have  taken  most  pleasure  in  it, 
and  bestowed  most  charges  upon  its  education  :  and  I 
doubt  not  to  see  that  book,  which  you  are  pleased  to 
promise  to  the  world,  and  of  which  you  have  given  us  a 
large  earnest  in  your  calendar,  as  accomplished,  as  any 
thing  can  be  expected  from  an  extraordinary  wit,  and 
no  ordinary  expenses,  and  a  long  experience.  I  know 
nobody  that  possesses  more  private  happiness  than  you 
do  in  your  garden ;  and,  yet  no  man,  who  makes  his 
happiness  more  public,  by  a  free  communication  of  the 
art  and  knowledge  of  it  to  others.  All  that  I  myself 
am  able  yet  to  do,  is  only  to  recommend  to  mankind  the 
search  of  that  felicity,  which  you  instruct  them  how  to 
find  and  to  enjoy. 


1. 

|APPY  art  thou,  whom  God  does  bless 
With  the  full  choice  of  thine  own  happiness  ; 
And  happier  yet,  because  thou'rt  blest 
With  prudence,  how  to  choose  the  best ; 
In  books  and  gardens,  thou  hast  plac'd  aright 


tense,'"  and  here  Cowley  returns  his  complimentary  wishes,  and 
adds,  that  Evelyn's  "  Calendar  "  will  be  as  lasting  as  time  itself. 


68  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 

(Things,  which  thou  well  dost  understand  ; 
And  both,  dost  make  with  thy  laborious  hand) 

Thy  noble,  innocent  delight : 
And  in  thy  virtuous  wife,  where  thou  again  dost  meet 

Both  pleasures  more  refin'd  and  sweet ; 

The  fairest  garden  in  her  looks, 

And  in  her  mind  the  wisest  books. 
Oh,  who  would  change  these  soft,  yet  solid  joys, 

For  empty  shews,  and  senseless  noise  ; 

And  all,  which  rank  ambition  breeds. 
Which  seem  such  beauteous  flowers,  and  are  such  poi- 
sonous weeds  ? 

2. 
When  God  did  man  to  his  own  likeness  make. 
As  much  as  clay,  though  of  the  purest  kind. 

By  the  great  potter's  art  refin'd, 

Could  the  divine  impression  take. 

He  thought  it  fit  to  place  him,  where 

A  kind  of  heaven  too  did  appear. 
As  far  as  earth  could  such  a  likeness  bear  : 

That  man  no  happiness  might  want. 
Which  earth  to  her  first  master  could  aflbrd. 

He  did  a  garden  for  him  plant 
By  the  quick  hand  of  his  omnipotent  word. 
As  the  chief  help  and  joy  of  human  life. 
He  gave  him  the  first  gift ;  first,  ev'n  before  a  wife. 

3. 
For  God,  the  universal  architect, 
'T  had  been  as  easy  to  erect 
A  Louvre  or  Escurial,  or  a  tower. 
That  might  with  heaven  communication  hold. 
As  Babel  vainly  thought  to  do  of  old — 


OF    THE    GARDEN.  69 

He  wanted  not  the  skill  or  power  ; 

In  the  world's  fabric  those  were  shown, 
And,  the  materials  were  all  his  own. 
But  well  he  knew,  what  place  would  best  agree 
With  innocence,  and  with  felicity  : 
And  we  elsewhere  still  seek  for  them  in  vain 
If  any  part  of  either  yet  remain, 
U  any  part  of  either  we  expect, 
This  may  our  judgment  in  the  search  direct ; 
God  the  first  garden  made,  and  the  first  city  Cain. 

4. 
O  blessed  shades  !    O  gentle  cool  retreat 

From  all  th'  immoderate  heat, 
In  which  the  frantic  world  does  burn  and  sweat ! 
This  does  the  lion-star,  ambition's  rage  ; 
This  avarice,  the  dog-star's  thirst  assuage ; 
Every  where  else  their  fatal  power  we  see, 
They  make  and  rule  man's  wretched  destiny : 

They  neither  set,  nor  disappear, 

But  tyrannize  o'er  all  the  year ; 
Whilst  we  ne'er  feel  their  flame  or  influence  here. 

The  birds,  that  dance  from  bough  to  bough, 

And  sing  above  in  every  tree, 

Are  not  from  fears  and  cares  more  free, 
Than  we,  who  lie,  or  sit,  or  walk  below. 

And  should  by  right  be  singers  too. 
What  prince's  choir  of  music  can  excel 

That  which  within  this  shade  does  dwell  ? 

To  which  we  nothing  pay  or  give ; 

They,  like  all  other  poets,  live 
Without  reward,  or  thanks  for  their  obliging  pains  ; 

'Tis  well,  if  they  become  not  prey  : 
The  whistling  winds  add  their  less  artful  strains, 


70  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 

And  a  grave  base  the  murmuring  fountains  play ; 
Nature  does  all  this  harmony  bestow, — 

But  to  our  plants,  art's  music  too. 
The  pipe,  theorbo,  and  guitar  we  owe ; 
The  lute  itself,  which  once  was  green  and  mute, 

When  Orpheus  strook  th'  inspired  lute, 

The  trees  danc'd  round,  and  understood 

By  sympathy  the  voice  of  wood. 

5. 
These  are  the  spells,  that  to  kind  sleep  invite, 
And  nothing  does,  within,  resistance  make. 

Which  yet  we  moderately  take  ; 

Who  would  not  choose  to  be  awake, 
While  he's  encompast  round  with  such  delight. 
To  th'  ear,  the  nose,  the  touch,  the  taste,  and  sight  ? 
When  Venus  would  her  dear  Ascanius  keep^ 
A  prisoner  in  the  downy  bands  of  sleep. 
She  od'rous  herbs  and  flowers  beneath  him  spread. 

As  the  most  soft  and  sweetest  bed  ; 
Not  her  own  lap  would  more  have  charm'd  his  head. 
"Who,  that  has  reason,  and  his  smell, 
AVould  not  among  roses  and  jasmin  dwell, 

Bather  than  all  his  spirits  choke 
With  exhalations  of  dirt  and  smoke  ? 

And  all  th'  uncleanness,  which  does  drown 
In  pestilential  clouds  a  populous  town  ? 
The  earth  itself  breathes  better  perfumes  here, 
Than  all  the  female  men,  or  women,  there, 
Not  without  cause,  about  them  bear. 


5  See  Virgil,  iEneid  i.  695. 


OF    THE    GARDEN.  7 

6. 
"When  Epicurus  to  the  world  had  taught, 

That  pleasure  was  the  chiefest  good, 
(And  was,  perhaps,  i'  th'  right,  if  rightly  understood) 

His  life  he  to  his  doctrine  brought, 
And  in  a  garden's  shade  that  sovereign  pleasure  sought 
"Whoever  a  true  epicure  would  be, 
May  there  find  cheap  and  virtuous  luxury. 
Yitellius's  table,  which  did  hold 
As  many  creatures  as  the  ark  of  old ; 
That  fiscal  table,  to  which  every  day 
All  countries  did  a  constant  tribute  pay, 
Could  nothing  more  delicious  afibrd 

That  nature's  liberality, 
Help'd  with  a  little  art  and  industry, 
Allows  the  meanest  gard'ner's  board. 
The  wanton  taste  no  fish  or  fowl  can  choose, 
For  which  the  grape  or  melon  she  would  lose  ; 
Though  all  th'  inhabitants  of  sea  and  air 
Be  lifted  in  the  glutton's  bill  of  fare ; 

Yet  still  the  fruits  of  earth  we  see 
Plac'd  the  third  story  ^  high  in  all  her  luxury. 

7. 

But  with  no  sense  the  garden  does  comply. 
None  courts,  or  flatters,  as  it  does  the  eye. 
When  the  great  Hebrew  king  did  almost  strain 
The  wond'rous  treasures  of  his  wealth  and  brain, 


^  This  is  explained  in  this  way: — Fruits  form  the  dessert, 
and  in  Cowley's  days  were  the  third  course  in  a  feast ;  fish, 
with  flesh  and  fowl,  forming  the  other  two. 


72  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 

His  royal  southern  guest  to  entertain ; 

Though  she  on  silver  floors  did  tread, 
With  bright  Assyrian  carpets  on  them  spread, 

To  hide  the  metal's  poverty ; 
Though  she  look'd  up  to  roofs  of  gold, 
And  nought  around  her  could  behold. 
But  silk  and  rich  embroidery. 
And  Babylonian  tapestry. 

And  wealthy  Hiram's  princely  dye  ; 
Though  Ophir's  starry  stones  met  every  where  her  eye ; 
Though  she  herself  and  her  gay  host  were  drest 
With  all  the  shining  glories  of  the  East ; 
When  lavish  art  her  costly  work  had  done, 

The  honour  and  the  prize  of  bravery 
Was  by  the  garden  from  the  palace  won ; 
And  every  rose  and  lily  there  did  stand 

Better  attir'd  by  nature's  hand : 
The  case  thus  judg'd  against  the  king  we  see. 
By  one,  that  would  not  be  so  rich,  though  wiser  far  than  he. 


Nor  does  this  happy  place  only  dispense 

Such  various  pleasures  to  the  sense ; 
Here  health  itself  does  live. 
That  salt  of  life,  which  does  to  all  a  relish  give. 
It's  standing  pleasure,  and  intrinsic  wealth. 
The  body's  virtue,  and  the  soul's  good  fortune,  health. 
The  tree  of  life,  when  it  in  Eden  stood. 
Did  its  immortal  head  to  heaven  rear ; 
It  lasted  a  tall  cedai-,  till  the  flood ; 
Now  a  small  thorny  shrub  it  does  appear ; 

Nor  will  it  thrive  too  every  where  : 

It  always  here  is  freshest  seen  ; 

'Tis  only  here  an  evergreen. 


OF    THE    CARD  EX.  73 

If,  through  the  strong  and  beauteous  fence 

Of  temperance  and  innocence, 
And  wholesome  labours,  and  a  quiet  mind, 

Any  diseases  passage  find, 

They  must  not  think  here  to  assail 
A  land  unarmed,  or  without  a  guard  ; 
They  must  fight  for  it,  and  dispute  it  hard. 

Before  they  can  prevail : 

Scarce  any  plant  is  growing  here, 
Which  against  death  some  weapon  does  not  bear. 

Let  cities  boast,  that  they  provide 

For  life  the  ornaments  of  pride  ; 

But  'tis  the  country  and  the  field, 

That  furnish  it  with  staff  and  shield. 

9. 
Where  does  the  wisdom  and  the  power  divine 
In  a  more  bright  and  sweet  reflection  shine  ? 
Where  do  we  finer  strokes  and  colours  see 
Of  the  Creator's  real  poetry, 

Than  when  we  with  attention  look 
Upon  the  third  day's  volume  of  the  book  ? 
If  we  could  open  and  intend  our  eye,- 

We  all,  like  Moses,  should  espy 
Ev'n  in  a  bush  the  radiant  Deity. 
But  we  despise  these  his  inferior  ways 
(Though  no  less  full  of  miracle  and  praise)  : 

Upon  the  flowers  of  heaven  we  gaze  ; 
The  stars  of  earth  no  wonder  in  us  raise, 

Though  these  perhaps  do  more,  than  they, 
The  life  of  mankind  sway. 
Although  no  part  of  mighty  nature  be 
^Nlore  stor'd  with  beauty,  power,  and  mystery  ; 
Yet,  to  encourage  human  industry, 


74  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 

God  has  so  order'd,  that  no  other  part 
Such  space  and  such  dominion  leaves  for  art. 

10. 
We  no  where  art  do  so  triumphant  see, 

As  when  it  grafts  or  buds  the  tree : 
In  other  things  we  count  it  to  excel, 
If  it  a  docile  scholar  can  appear 
To  Nature,  and  but  imitate  her  well ; 
It  over-rules,  and  is  her  master  here. 
It  imitates  her  Maker's  power  divine, 
And  changes  her  sometimes,  and  sometimes  does  refine 
It  does,  like  grace,  the  fallen  tree  restore 
To  its  blest  state  of  Paradise  before  : 
Who  would  not  joj  to  see  his  conquering  hand 
O'er  all  the  vegetable  world  command  ? 
And  the  wild  giants  of  the  wood  receive 

What  law  he's  pleas'd  to  give  ? 
He  bids  th'  ill-natur'd  crab  produce 
The  gentler  apple's  winy  juice. 

The  golden  fruit,  that  worthy  is 

Of  Galatea's  purple  kiss  : 

He  does  the  savage  hawthorn  teach 

To  bear  the  medlar  and  the  pear  ; 

He  bids  the  rustic  plum  to  rear 

A  noble  trunk,  and  be  a  peach. 

Even  Daphne's  coyness  he  does  mock, 

And  weds  the  cherry  to  her  stock, 

Though  she  refus'd  Apollo's  suit ; 

Even  she,  that  chaste  and  virgin  tree, 

Now  wonders  at  herself,  to  see 
That  she's  a  mother  made,  and  blushes  in  her  fruit. 


OF    THE    CARD  EX.  75 

11- 
Methinks,  I  see  great  Dioclesian  walk 
In  the  Salonian  garden's  noble  shade, 
Which  by  his  own  imperial  hands  was  made  : 
I  see  him  smile  (methinks)  as  he  does  talk 
With  the  ambassadors,  who  come  in  vain, 

T'  entice  him  to  a  throne  again. 
If  I,  my  friends  (said  he),  should  to  you  show 
All  the  delights,  which  in  these  gardens  grow, 
'Tis  likelier  much,  that  you  should  with  me  stay, 
Than  'tis,  that  you  should  carry  me  away  : 
And  trust  me  not,  my  friends,  if,  every  day, 

I  walk  not  here  with  more  delight 
Than  ever,  after  the  most  happy  fight. 
In  triumph,  to  the  capitol,  I  rod. 

To  thank  the  gods,  and  to  be  thought,  myself,  almost  a 
god. 


VI. 


OF    GREATNESS. 

[INCE  we  cannot  attain  to  greatness  (says  the 
Sieur  de  Montagne,)  let  us  have  our  revenge 
by  railing  at  it  :"^  this  he  spoke  but  in  jest. 
I  believe  he  desired  it  no  more  than  I  do, 
and  had  less  reason ;  for  he  enjoyed  so  plentiful  and 
honourable  a  fortune  in  a  most  excellent  country,  as 
allowed  him  all  the  real  conveniences  of  it,  separated 
and  purged  from  the  incommodities.  If  I  were  but  in 
his  condition,  I  should  think  it  hard  measure,  without 
being  convinced  of  any  crime,  to  be  sequestered  from 
it,  and  made  one  of  the  principal  officers  of  state.  But 
the  reader  may  think  that  what  I  now  say  is  of  small 
authority,  because  I  never  was,  nor  ever  shall  be,  put 
to  the  trial :  I  can  therefore  only  make  my  protestation. 

If  ever  I  more  riches  did  desire 

Than  cleanliness  and  quiet  do  require : 


'  Montaigne,  liv.  iii.  chap.  7.  De  V Incommodite  de  la  Gran- 
deur. "  Puisque  nous  ne  la  pouvons  aveindre,  vengeons  nous  h. 
en  mesdire."  He  adds,  "  yet  it  is  not  truly  to  rail  at  any  thing 
if  we  merely  point  out  its  faults."  Cowley  quotes  from  Florio's 
Montaigne,  a  translation  which  was  a  great  favourite  with 
Shakespeare. 


OF    GREATNESS.  77 

If  e'er  ambition  did  my  fancy  cheat, 
With  any  wish,  so  mean  as  to  be  great, 
Continue,  heaven,  still  from  me  to  remove 
The  humble  blessings  of  that  life  I  love. 

I  know  very  many  men  will  despise,  and  some  pity  me, 
for  this  humour,  as  a  poor-spirited  fellow ;  but  I  am 
content,  and,  like  Horace,  thank  God  for  being  so. 

Di  bene  fecerunt,  inopis  me  quodque  pusilli, 
Finxerunt  animi.^ 

I  confess,  I  love  littleness  almost  in  all  things.  A 
little  convenient  estate,  a  little  chearful  house,  a  little 
company,  and  a  very  little  feast;  and,  if  I  were  to. fall 
in  love  again  (which  is  a  great  passion,  and  therefore,  I 
hope,  I  have  done  with  it)  it  would  be,  I  think,  with 
prettiness,  rather  than  with  majestical  beauty.  I  would 
neither  wish  that  my  mistress,  nor  my  fortune,  should 
be  a  hoiia  roba,  nor,  as  Homer  uses  to  describe  his  beau- 
ties, like  a  daughter  of  great  Jupiter,  for  the  stateliness 
and  largeness  of  her  person  ;  but,  as  Lucretius  says, 

Parvula,  pumilio,  XapiTb)v  fxia,  tota  merum  sal.^ 

Where  there  is  one  man  of  this,  I  believe  there  are  a 
thousand  of  Senecio's  mind,  whose  ridiculous  affectation 
of  grandeur,  Seneca''  the  elder  describes  to  this  effect : 
Senecio  was  a  man  of  a  turbid  and  confused  wit,  who 
could  not  endure  to  speak  any  but  mighty  words  and 


^  Horace,  Sat.  i.  iv.  17.  "The  gods  have  done  well  in  making 
me  a  humble  and  small-spirited  fellow." 

^  Lucretius,  bk.  iv.  v.  1155.  The  poet,  who  has  used  very 
freely  Greek  appellatives  in  ten  verses  of  the  context,  here  cie- 
scribes  the  mistress  he  should  choose,  a  wee  pet  darling  of  a 
pigmy  size. 

*  Suasorium  Liber,  Suas.  11. 


78  COWLEY'S   ESSAYS. 

sentences,  till  this  humour  grew  at  last  into  so  notorious 
a  habit,  or  rather  disease,  as  became  the  sport  of  the 
whole  town:  he  would  have  no  servants,  but  huge, 
massy  fellows ;  no  plate  or  houshold  stuff,  but  thrice 
as  big  as  the  fashion  :  you  may  believe  me,  for  I  speak 
it  without  raillery,  his  extravagancy  came  at  last  into 
Such  a  madness,  that  he  would  not  put  on  a  pair  of 
shoes,  each  of  which  was  not  big  enough  for  both  his 
feet :  he  would  eat  nothing  but  what  was  great,  nor 
touch  any  fruit  but  horse-plums  and  pound-pears  :  he 
kept  a  concubine,  that  was  a  very  giantess,  and  made 
her  walk  too  always  in  chiopins,  till,  at  last,  he  got  the 
surname  of  Senecio  Grandio,  which,  Messala  said,  was 
not  his  cogJiomen,  but  his  cognomentum :  when  he  de- 
claimed for  the  three  hundred  Lacedaemonians,  who 
alone  opposed  Xerxes's  army  of  above  three  hundred 
thousand,  he  stretched  out  his  arms,  and  stood  on  tip- 
toes, that  he  might  appear  the  taller,  and  cried  out,  in  a 
very  loud  voice  :  "  I  rejoice,  I  rejoice  " — We  wondered, 
I  remember,  what  new  great  fortune  had  befallen  his 
eminence.  "  Xerxes  (says  he)  is  all  mine  own.  He, 
who  took  away  the  sight  of  the  sea,  with  the  canvas 
veils  of  so  many  ships  " — and  then  he  goes  on  so,  as  I 
know  not  what  to  make  of  the  rest,  whether  it  be  the 
fault  of  the  edition,  or  the  orator's  own  burly  way  of 
nonsense. 

This  is  the  character  that  Seneca  gives  of  this  hyper- 
bolical fop,  whom  we  stand  amazed  at,  and  yet  there 
are  very  few  men  who  are  not  in  some  things,  and  to 
some  degrees,  Grandios.  Is  any  thing  more  common, 
than  to  see  our  ladies  of  quality  wear  such  high  shoes 
as  they  cannot  walk  in,  without  one  to  lead  them ;  and 
a  gown  as  long  again  as  their  body,  so  that  they  cannot 
stir  to  the  next  room,  without  a  page  or  two  to  hold  it 


OF    GREATNESS.  79 

up?  I  may  safelj  saj,  that  all  the  ostentation  of  our 
grandees  is,  just  like  a  train,  of  no  use  in  the  world,  but 
horribly  cumbersome  and  incommodious.  What  is  all 
this,  but  a  spice  of  Grandio  f  how  tedious  would  this  be, 
if  we  were  always  bound  to  it !  I  do  believe  there  is  no 
king,  who  would  not  rather  be  deposed,  than  endure, 
every  day  of  his  reign,  all  the  ceremonies  of  his  corona- 
tion. 

The  mightiest  princes  are  glad  to  fly  often  from  these 
majestic  pleasures  (which  is,  methinks,  no  small  dis- 
paragement to  them)  as  it  were  for  refuge,  to  the  most 
contemptible  divertisements,  and  meanest  recreations, 
of  the  vulgar,  nay,  even  of  children.  One  of  the  most 
powerful  and  fortunate  princes  of  the  world,^  of  late, 
could  find  out  no  delight  so  satisfactory,  as  the  keeping 
of  little  singing  birds,  and  hearing  of  them,  and  whistling 
to  them.  What  did  the  emperors  of  the  whole  world  ? 
If  ever  any  men  had  the  free  and  full  enjoyment  of  all 
human  greatness  (nay  that  would  not  suffice,  for  they 
would  be  gods  too),  they  certainly  possessed  it :  and  yet 
one  of  them,  who  styled  himself  lord  and  god  of  the 
earth,  could  not  tell  how  to  pass  his  whole  day  plea- 
santly, without  spending  constantly  two  or  three  hours 
in  catching  of  flies,  and  killing  them  with  a  bodkin,  as 
if  his  godship  had  been  Beelzebub.^  One  of  his  pre- 
decessors, Nero  (who  never  put  any  bounds,  nor  met 
with  any  stop  to  his  appetite),  could  divert  himself  with 
no  pastime  more  agreeable,  than  to  run  about  the  streets 
all  niijht  in  a  disguise,  and  abuse  the  women,  and  afii'ont 


*  Louis  XIII.  The  Duke  of  Luynes,  constable  of  France,  is 
said  to  have  gained  the  favour  of  this  powerful  prince  by  train- 
ing up  singing  birds  for  him. — Anon. 

^  Beelzebub,  signifies  the  LordofJiies.—  Cowi.i:Y. 


8o  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 

the  men  whom  he  met,  and  sometimes  to  beat  them,  and 
somethnes  to  be  beaten  by  them  :  this  was  one  of  his 
imperial  nocturnal  pleasures.  His  chiefest  in  the  dav 
was,  to  sing,  and  play  upon  a  fiddle,  in  the  habit  of  a 
minstrel,  upon  the  public  stage  :  he  was  prouder  of  the 
garlands  that  were  given  to  his  divine  voice  (as  they 
called  it  then)  in  those  kind  of  prizes,  than  all  his  fore- 
fathers were,  of  their  triumphs  over  nations  :  he  did  not 
at  his  death  complain  that  so  mighty  an  emperor,  and 
the  last  of  all  the  Caesarian  race  of  deities,  should  be 
brought  to  so  shameful  and  miserable  an  end ;  but  only 
cried  out,  "  Alas,  what  pity  it  is,  that  so  excellent  a 
musician  should  perish  in  this  manner ! "  His  uncle 
Claudius  spent  half  his  time  at  playing  at  dice ;  that 
was  the  main  fruit  of  his  sovereignty.  I  omit  the  mad- 
nesses of  Caligula's  delights,  and  the  execrable  sordid- 
ness  of  those  of  Tiberius.  Would  one  think  that  Au- 
gustus himself,  the  highest  and  most  fortunate  of  mankind, 
a  person  endowed  too  with  many  excellent  parts  of 
nature,  should  be  so  hard  put  to  it  sometimes  for  want 
of  recreations,  as  to  be  found  playing  at  nuts  and 
bounding-stones,  with  little  Syrian  and  Moorish  boys, 
whose  company  he  took  delight  in,  for  their  prating  and 
their  wantonness  ? 

Was  it  for  this,  that  Rome's  best  blood  he  spilt, 
With  so  much  falsehood,  so  much  guilt  ? 

Was  it  for  this,  that  his  ambition  strove 

To  equal  Caesar,  first ;  and  after,  Jove.' 

Greatness  is  barren,  sure,  of  solid  joys  ; 

Her  merchandize  (I  fear)  is  all  in  toj's: 

She  could  not  else,  sure,  so  uncivil  be, 

To  treat  his  universal  majesty, 
His  new-created  Deity, 
With  nuts  and  bounding-stones  and  boys. 

But  we  must  excuse  her  for  this  meagre  entertain- 


OF   GREATNESS.  8i 

ment ;  she  has  not  really  wherewithal  to  make  such 
feasts  as  we  imagine.  Her  guests  must  be  contented 
sometimes  with  but  slender  cates,  and  with  the  same 
cold  meats  served  over  and  over  again,  even  till  they 
become  nauseous.  When  you  have  pared  away  all  the 
vanity,  what  solid  and  natural  contentment  does  there 
remain,  which  may  not  be  had  with  five  hundred  pounds 
a  year  ?  ISTot  so  many  servants  or  horses ;  but  a  few 
good  ones,  which  will  do  all  the  business  as  well :  not  so 
many  choice  dishes  at  every  meal ;  but  at  several  meals 
all  of  them,  which  makes  them  both  the  more  healthy, 
and  the  more  pleasant :  not  so  rich  garments,  nor  so 
frequent  changes ;  but  as  warm  and  as  comely,  and  so 
frequent  change  too,  as  is  every  jot  as  good  for  the 
master,  though  not  for  the  taylor  or  valet  de  chambre : 
not  such  a  stately  palace,  nor  gilt  rooms,  or  the  costliest 
sorts  of  tapestry ;  but  a  convenient  brick  house,  with 
decent  wainscot,  and  pretty  forest^work  hangings. 
Lastly,  (for  I  omit  all  other  particulars,  and  will  end 
with  that  which  I  love  most  in  both  conditions)  not 
whole  woods  cut  in  walks,  nor  vast  parks,  nor  fountain 
or  cascade  gardens ;  but  herb,  and  flower,  and  fruit 
gardens,  which  are  more  useful,  and  the  water  every 
whit  as  clear  and  wholesome  as  if  it  darted  from  the 
breasts  of  a  marble  nymph,  or  the  urn  of  a  river-god. 

If,  for  all  this,  you  like  better  the  substance  of  that 
former  estate  of  life,  do  but  consider  the  inseparable 
accidents  of  both :  servitude,  disquiet,  danger,  and, 
most  commonly,  guilt,  inherent  in  the  one  ;  in  the  other, 
liberty,  tranquility,  security,  and  innocence.  And  when 
you  have  thought  upon  this,  you  will  confess  that  to  be 
a  truth  which  appeared  to  you,  before,  but  a  ridiculous 
paradox,  that  a  low  fortune  is  better  guarded  and 
attended  than  a  high  one.     If,  indeed,  we  look  only 

G 


g2  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 

upon  the  flourishing  head  of  the  tree,  it  appears  a  most 
beautiful  object, 

" — sed  quantum  vertice  ad  auras 
"-^therias,  tantum  radice  in  Tartara  teudit.'^'' 

As  far  as  up  towards  heaven  the  branches  grow, 
So  far  the  roots  sink  down  to  hell  below. 

Another  horrible  disgrace  to  greatness  is,  that  It  is 
for  the  most  part  in  pitiful  want  and  distress.  What  a 
wonderful  thing  is  this !  Unless  it  degenerate  into 
avarice,  and  so  cease  to  be  greatness,  it  falls  perpetually 
into  such  necessities,  as  drive  it  into  all  the  meanest 
and  most  sordid  ways  of  borrowing,  cousenage,  and 
robbery  : 

Mancipiis  locuples,  eget  teris  Cappadocum  rex.^ 

This  is  the  case  of  almost  all  great  men,  as  well  as  of 
the  poor  king  of  Cappadocia :  they  abound  with  slaves, 
but  are  indigent  of  money.  The  ancient  Roman  em- 
perors, who  had  the  riches  of  the  whole  world  for  their 
revenue,  had  wherewithal  to  live  (one  would  have 
thought)  pretty  well  at  ease,  and  to  have  been  exempt 
from  the  pressures  of  extreme  poverty.  But,  yet  with 
most  of  them  it  was  much  otherwise ;  and  they  fell  per- 
petually into  such  miserable  penury,  that  they  were 
forced  to  devour  or  squeeze  most  of  their  friends  and 
servants,  to  cheat  with  infamous  projects,  to  ransack 
and  pillage  all  their  provinces.  This  fashion  of  imperial 
grandeur  is  imitated  by  all  inferior  and  subordinate 
sorts  of  it,  as  if  it  were  a  point  of  honour.  They  must 
be  cheated  of  a  third  part  of  their  estates ;  two  other 
thirds  they  must  expend  in  vanity  5  so  that  they  remain 

'  Virg.  Georg.  ii.  291.  «  Hor.  Ep.  i.  vi.  39. 


OF   GREATNESS.  83 

debtors  for  all  the  necessary  provisions  of  life,  and  have 
no  way  to  satisfy  those  debts,  but  out  of  the  succours 
and  supplies  of  rapine  :  as  riches  increase  (says  Solomon), 
so  do  the  mouths  that  devour  themP  The  master  mouth 
has  no  more  than  before.  The  owner,  methinks,  is 
like  Ocnus  in  the  fable,  who  is  perpetually  winding  a 
rope  of  hay,  and  an  ass  at  the  end  perpetually  eating  it. 
Out  of  these  inconveniences  arises  naturally  one  more, 
which  is,  that  no  greatness  can  be  satisfied  or  contented 
with  itself:  still,  if  it  could  mount  up  a  little  higher,  it 
would  be  happy ;  if  it  could  gain  but  that  point,  it  would 
obtain  all  it's  desires ;  but  yet  at  last,  when  it  is  got  up 
to  the  very  top  of  the  Peak  of  TenerifFe,  it  is  in  very 
great  danger  of  breaking  its  neck  downwards,  but  in  no 
possibility  of  ascending  upwards  into  the  seat  of  tran- 
quillity above  the  moon.  The  first  ambitious  men  in 
the  world,  the  old  giants,  are  said  to  have  made  an 
heroical  attempt  of  scaling  heaven  in  despight  of  the 
Gods ;  and  they  cast  Ossa  upon  Olympus,  and  Pelion 
upon  Ossa :  two  or  three  mountains  more,  they  thought, 
would  have  done  their  business ;  but  the  thunder  spoilt 
all  the  work,  when  they  were  come  up  to  the  third 
storey : 

And  what  a  noble  plot  was  crost ! 

And  what  a  brave  design  was  lost ! 

A  famous  person  of  their  ofF-spring,  the  late  giant  of 
our  nation,  when,  from  the  condition  of  a  very  incon- 
siderable captain,  he  made  himself  lieutenant  general  of 
an  army  of  little  Titans,  which  was  his  first  mountain, 
and  afterwards  general,  which  was  his  second,  and  after 
that,  absolute  tyrant  of  three  kingdoms,  which  was  the 
third,  and  almost  touched  the  heaven  which  he  afiected, 

9  Ecel.  V.  11. 


84  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 

is  believed  to  have  died  with  grief  and  discontent,  be- 
cause he  could  not  attain  to  the  honest  name  of  a  king, 
and  the  old  formality  of  a  crown,  though  he  had  before 
exceeded  the  power  by  a  wicked  usurpation.  If  he 
could  have  compassed  that,  he  would  perhaps  have 
wanted  something  else  that  is  necessary  to  felicity,  and 
pined  away  for  the  want  of  the  title  of  an  emperor  or 
a  god.  The  reason  of  this  is,  that  greatness  has  no  reality 
in  nature,  but  is  a  creature  of  the  fancy,  a  notion  that 
consists  only  in  relation  and  comparison :  it  is  indeed 
an  idol ;  but  St.  Paul  teaches  us,  thai  an  idol  is  worth 
nothing  in  the  icorld.  There  is,  in  truth,  no  rising  or 
meridian  of  the  sun,  but  only  in  respect  to  several 
places :  there  is  no  right  or  left,  no  upper-hand,  in 
nature ;  every  thing  is  little,  and  every  thing  is  great, 
according  as  it  is  diversly  compared.  There  may  be  per- 
haps some  village  in  Scotland  or  Ireland,  where  I  might 
be  a  great  man ;  and  in  that  case  I  should  be  like  Csesar 
(you  would  wonder  how  Caesar  and  I  should  be  like  one 
another  in  any  thing) ;  and  choose  rather  to  be  the  first 
man  of  the  village,  than  second  at  Rome.  Our  country 
is  called  Great  Britany,  in  regard  only  of  a  lesser  of  the 
same  name ;  it  would  be  but  a  ridiculous  epithet  for  it, 
when  we  consider  it  together  with  the  kingdom  of  China. 
That,  too,^°  is  but  a  pitiful  rood  of  ground,  in  comparison 
of  the  whole  earth  besides :  and  this  whole  globe  of 
earth,  which  we  account  so  immense  a  body,  is  but  one 
point  or  atom  in  relation  to  those  numberless  worlds 
that  are  scattered  up  and  down  in  the  infinite  space  of 
the  sky  which  we  behold. 


'"  This  noble  idea  is  pursued  to  a  greater  extent  by  M.  Pascal, 
Pensees,  c.  xxii. ;  and  by  Mr.  Addison,  in  the  Spectator,  Ko. 
420  and  No.  565. 


OF    GREATNESS.  85 

The  other  many  inconveniences  of  grandeur  I  have 
spoken  of  dispersedly  in  several  chapters  ;  and  shall  end 
this  with  an  ode  of  Horace,  not  exactly  copied,  but 
rudely  imitated. 


HORACE,  LIB.  III.  ODE   I. 

"  Odi  profanum  vulgus,"  &c. 

1. 
jENCE,  ye  profane  ;  I  hate  ye  all ; 

Both  the  great  vulgar, ^^  and  the  small. 
To  virgin  minds,  which  yet  their  native  white- 
ness hold, 
Not  yet  discolour'd  with  the  love  of  gold, 

(That  jaundice  of  the  soul. 
Which  makes  it  look  so  gilded  and  so  foul,) 
To  you,  ye  very  few,  these  truths  I  tell ; 
The  muse  inspires  my  song ;  hark,  and  observe  it  well. 


We  look  on  men,  and  wonder  at  such  odds 

'Twixt  things  that  were  the  same  by  birth ; 

We  look  on  kings  as  giants  of  the  earth, 

These  giants  are  but  pigmies  to  the  gods. 
The  humblest  bush  and  proudest  oak 

Are  but  of  equal  proof  against  the  thunder-stroke. 


"  This  happy  expression  of  "  the  great  vulgar  "  is  become  a 
part  of  the  English  phraseology. 


86  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 

Beauty,  and  strength,  and  wit,  and  wealth,  and  power,^^ 

Have  their  short  flourishing  hour ; 

And  love  to  see  themselves,  and  smile, 
And  joy  in  their  pre-eminence  a  while; 

Even  so  in  the  same  land. 
Poor  weeds,  rich  corn,  gay  flowers,  together  stand ; 
Alas,  death  mows  down  all  with  an  impartial  hand. 


And  all  ye  men,  whom  greatness  does  so  please, 

Ye  feast,  I  fear,  like  Damocles : 

If  ye  your  eyes  could  upwards  move, 
(But  ye,  I  fear,  think  nothing  is  above) 
Ye  would  perceive  by  what  a  little  thread 

The  sword  still  hangs  over  your  head. 
ISTo  tide  of  wine  would  drown  your  cares ; 
No  mirth  or  musick  over-noise  your  fears. 
The  fear  of  death  would  you  so  watchful  keep, 
As  not  t'admit  the  image  of  it,  sleep. 

4. 
Sleep  is  a  god  too  proud  to  wait  in  palaces. 
And  yet  so  humble  too,  as  not  to  scorn 

The  meanest  country  cottages ; 

"  His  poppy  grows  among  the  corn." 
The  halcyon  sleep  will  never  build  his  nest 

In  any  stormy  breast. 

'2  This  line  is  like,  both  in  expression  and  sentiment,  to  that 
fine  stanza  in  Mr.  Gray's  Elegy : — 

"  The  boast  of  heraldry,  the  pomp  of  power, 

And  all  that  beauty,  all  that  wealth  e'er  gave, 
Await  alike  the  inevitable  hour ; 

The  paths  of  glory  lead  but  to  the  grave." 


OF    GREATNESS.  87 

'Tis  not  enough  that  he  dpes  find 
Clouds  and  darkness  in  their  mind; 
Darkness  but  half  his  work  will  do ; 
'Tis  not  enough ;  he  must  find  quiet  too. 

5. 

The  man,  who,  in  all  wishes  he  does  make, 

Does  only  nature's  counsel  take, 
That  wise  and  happy  man  will  never  fear 

The  evil  aspects  of  the  year  ; 
Xor  tremble,  though  two  comets  should  appeal  . 
He  does  not  look  in  almanacks,  to  see 

Whether  he  fortunate  shall  be  ; 
Let  Mars  and  Saturn  in  the  heavens  conjoin,^^ 
And  what  they  please  against  the  world  design, 

So  Jupiter  within  him  shine. ^^ 

6. 
If  of  your  pleasures  and  desires  no  end  be  found, 
God  to  your  cares  and  fears  will  set  no  bound. 

AVhat  would  content  you  ?  who  can  tell  ? 
Ye  fear  so  much  to  lose  what  ye  have  got, 

As  if  ye  lik'd  it  Avell : 
Ye  strive  for  more,  as  if  ye  lik'd  it  not. 

Go,  level  hills,  and  fill  up  seas, 
Spare  nought  that  may  your  wanton  fancy  please ; 

But,  trust  me,  when  ye  have  done  all  this. 
Much  will  be  missing  still,  and  much  will  be  amiss. 


'^  i.e.  Let  Malice  and  Misfortune  do  their  worst. 

'*  i.e.  So  God  send  him  a  moderate  and  contented  mind. 


VII. 

OF     AVARICE. 

HERE  are  two  sorts  of  avarice :  the  one  is 
but  of  a  bastard  kind,  and  that  is,  the  rapa- 
cious appetite  of  gain ;  not  for  its  own  sake, 
but  for  the  pleasure  of  refunding  it  immedi- 
ately through  all  the  channels  of  pride  and  luxury  :  the 
other  is  the  true  kind,  and  properly  so  called ;  which  is 
a  restless  and  unsatiable  desire  of  riches,  not  for  any 
farther  end  or  use,  but  only  to  hoard,  and  preserve,  and 
perpetually  increase  them.  The  covetous  man,  of  the  first 
kind,  is  like  a  greedy  ostrich,  which  devours  any  metal ; 
but  it  is  with  an  intent  to  feed  upon  it,  and  in  effect 
it  makes  a  shift  to  digest  and  excern  it.  The  second  is 
like  the  foolish  chough,  which  loves  to  steal  money  only 
to  hide  it.  The  first  does  much  harm  to  mankind ;  and 
a  little  good  too,  to  some  few  :  the  second  does  good  to 
none  ;  no,  not  to  himself.  The  first  can  make  no  excuse 
to  God,  or  angels,  or  rational  men,  for  his  actions  :  the 
second  can  give  no  reason  or  colour,  not  to  the  devil 
himself,  for  what  he  does ;  he  is  a  slave  to  Mammon, 
Av^rithout  wages.  The  first  makes  a  shift  to  be  be- 
loved ;  ay,  and  envied,  too,  by  some  people  :  the  second 
is  the  universal  object  of  hatred  and  contempt.  There 
is  no  vice  has  been  so  pelted  with  good  sentences,  and 


OF  AVARICE.  89 

especially  by  the  poets,  who  have  pursued  It  with  stories 
and  fables,  and  allegories,  and  allusions ;  and  moved,  as 
we  say,  every  stone  to  lling  at  it  :  among  all  which,  I 
do  not  remember  a  more  fine  and  gentleman -like  cor- 
rection than  that  which  was  given  it  by  one  line  of  Ovid : 

"  Desunt  luxuriae  multa,  avaritiae  omnia." 
Much  is  wanting  to  luxury,  all  to  avarice. 

To  which  saying,  I  have  a  mind  to  add  one  member, 
and  tender  it  thus  ; 

Poverty  wants  some,  luxury  many,  avarice  all  things. 

Somebody  says  ^  of  a  virtuous  and  wise  man,  "  that 
having  nothing,  he  has  all :"  this  is  just  his  antipode, 
vv-ho,  havmg  all  things,  yet  has  nothing.  He  is  a  guar- 
dian eunuch  to  his  beloved  gold  :  "  audivi  eos  amatores 
esse  maximos,  sed  nil  potesse."  They  are  the  fondest 
lovers,  but  impotent  to  enjoy. 

And,  oh,  what  man's  condition  can  be  worse 
Than  his,  whom  plenty  starves,  and  blessings  curse ; 
The  beggars  but  a  common  fate  deplore, 
The  rich  poor  man's  emphatically  poor. 

I  wonder  how  it  comes  to  pass,  that  there  has  never 
been  any  law  made  against  him :  against  him,  do  I  say  ? 
I  mean,  for  him  :  as  there  are  public  provisions  made  for 
all  other  mad-men :  it  is  very  reasonable  that  the  king 
should  appoint  some  persons  (and  I  think  the  courtiers 
would  not  be  against  this  proposition)  to  manage  his 
estate  during  his  life  (for  his  heirs  commonly  need  not 


^  The  author,  knowing  the  taste  of  his  readers,  would  not 
disgust  their  delicacy  by  letting  them  know  that  this  somebody 
v.-as  St.  Paul  (2  Cor  vi".  10),  though  the  sense  and  expression 
would  have  done  honour  to  Plato. 


90  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 

that  care) ;  and  out  of  it  to  make  it  their  business  to  see, 
that  he  should  not  Avant  alimony  befitting  his  condition, 
which  he  could  never  get  out  of  his  own  cruel  fingers. 
We  relieve  idle  vagrants,  and  counterfeit  beggars ;  but 
have  no  care  at  all  of  these  really  poor  men,  who  are 
(methinks)  to  be  respectfully  treated,  in  regard  of  their 
quality.  I  might  be  endless  against  them,  but  I  am 
almost  choakedwith  the  super-abundance  of  the  matter; 
too  much  plenty  impoverishes  me,  as  it  does  them.^  I 
will  conclude  this  odious  subject  with  part  of  Horace's 
first  satire,  which  take  in  his  own  familiar  style:** 

S  ADMIRE,  Mascenas,  how  it  comes  to  pass, 
^    That  no  man  ever  yet  contented  was, 

Nor  is,  nor  perhaps  will  be,  with  that  state 

In  which  his  own  choice  plants  him,  or  his  fate. 

Happy  the  merchant!  the  old  soldier  cries. 

The  merchant,  beaten  with  tempestuous  skies, 

Happy  the  soldier!  one  half-hour  to  thee 

Gives  speedy  death,  or  glorious  victory. 

The  lawyer,  knockt  up  early  from  his  rest 

By  restless  clients,  calls  the  peasant  blest ; 

The  peasant,  when  his  labours  ill  succeed. 

Envies  the  mouth,  which  only  talk  does  feed. 

'Tis  not  (I  think  you'll  say)  that  I  want  store 

'  This  application  of  his  aphorism  covers  the  false  wit  of  the 
expression,  and  was  intended  as  an  indirect  apology  for  it,  though 
the  witticism  be  not  his  own,  but  Ovid's : — 

" inopem  me  copia  fecit." — Met.  iii.  466. 

^  Mr.  Cowley  has  succeeded  better  in  copying  this  familiar 
style  than  most  others;  but  he  sometimes  mistakes  vulgar,  or 
careless,  at  least,  for  familiar.  Horace's  familiarity  is  that  of  a 
perfectly  polite  and  elegant  speaker,  as  well  as  of  an  easy,  well- 
bred  man. 


OF   AVARICE.  91 

Of  instances,  if  here  I  add  no  more; 

They  are  enough  to  reach  at  least  a  mile 

Beyond  long  orator  Fabius's  style. 

But,  hold,  ye,  whom  no  fortune  e'er  endears, 

Gentlemen,  malecontents,  and  mutineers, 

Who  bounteous  Jove  so  often  cruel  call. 

Behold,  Jove's  now  resolv'd  to  please  you  all. 

Thou,  soldier,  be  a  merchant ;  merchant,  thou 

A  soldier  be;  and,  lawyer,  to  the  plow. 

Change  all  your  stations  strait :  why  do  they  stay  ? 

The  devil  a  man  will  change,  now,  when  he  may. 

Were  I  in  general  Jove's  abused  case, 

By  Jove  I'd  cudgel  this  rebellious  race : 

But  he's  too  good;  be  all  then,  as  ye  were: 

However,  make  the  best  of  what  ye  are, 

And  in  that  state  be  chearful  and  rejoice, 

"Which  either  was  your  fate,  or  was  your  choice : 

No,  they  must  labour  yet,  and  sweat  and  toil, 

And  very  miserable  be  a  while. 

But  'tis  with  a  design  only  to  gain 

What  may  their  age  with  plenteous  ease  maintain. 

The  prudent  pismire  does  this  lesson  teach. 

And  industry  to  lazy  mankind  preach. 

The  little  drudge  does  trot  about  and  sweat, 

Nor  does  he  strait  devour  all  he  can  get; 

But  in  his  temperate  mouth  carries  it  home 

A  stock  for  winter,  which  he  knows  must  come. 

And,  when  the  rowling  world  to  creatures  here 

Turns  up  the  deform'd  wrong  side  of  the  year. 

And  shuts  him  in,  with  storms,  and  cold,  and  wet, 

He  chearfully  does  his  past  labours  eat: 

O,  does  he  so?  your  wise  example,  th'  ant, 

Does  not,  at  all  times,  rest  and  plenty  want. 

But,  weighing  justly  a  mortal  ant's  condition. 


92  COWLEY'S   ESSAYS. 

Divides  his  life  'twixt  labour  and  fruition. 

Thee,  neither  heat,  nor  storms,  nor  wet,  nor  cold, 

From  thy  unnatural  diligence  can  withhold : 

To  th'  Indies  thou  would'st  run,  rather  than  see 

Another,  though  a  friend,  richer  than  thee. 

Fond  man !  what  good  or  beauty  can  be  found 

In  heaps  of  treasure,  buried  under  ground? 

Which  rather  than  diminish'd  e'er  to  see. 

Thou  would'st  thyself,  too,  buried  with  them  be : 

And  what's  the  difference?  is't  not  quite  as  bad 

Never  to  use,  as  never  to  have  had  ? 

In  thy  vast  barns  millions  of  quarters  store ; 

Thy  belly,  for  all  that,  will  hold  no  more 

Than  mine  does.     Every  baker  makes  much  bread: 

"VVliat  then  ?     He's  with  no  more,  than  others,  fed. 

Do  you  within  the  bounds  of  nature  live. 

And  to  augment  your  own  you  need  not  strive ; 

One  hundred  acres  will  no  less  for  you 

Your  life's  whole  business,  than  ten  thousand,  do. 

But  pleasant  'tis  to  take  from  a  great  store; 

What,  man  ?  though  you're  resolv'd  to  take  no  more 

Than  I  do  from  a  small  one  ?     If  your  will 

Be  but  a  pitcher  or  a  pot  to  fill. 

To  some  great  river  for  it  must  you  go, 

When  a  clear  spring  just  at  your  feet  does  flow? 

Give  me  the  spring,  which  does  to  human  use 

Safe,  easy,  and  untroubled  stores  produce ; 

He  who  scorns  these,  and  needs  will  drink  at  Nile, 

Must  run  the  danger  of  the  crocodile. 

And  of  the  rapid  stream  itself,  which  may, 

At  unawares,  bear  him  perhaps  away. 

In  a  full  flood  Tantalus  stands,  his  skin 

Wash'd  o'er  in  vain,  for  ever  dry  within; 

He  catches  at  the  stream  with  greedy  lips, 


OF   AVARICE.  93 

From  liis  touclit  mouth  the  wanton  torment  slips :  * 

You  laugh  now,  and  expand  your  careful  brow ; 

'Tis  finely  said,  but  what's  all  this  to  you? 

Change  but  the  name,  this  fable  is  thy  stores, 

Thou  in  a  flood  of  useless  wealth  dost  glory, 

Which  thou  canst  only  touch,  but  never  taste ; 

Th'  abundance  still,  and  still  the  want,  does  last. 

The  treasures  of  the  gods  thou  would'st  not  spare : 

But,  when  they're  made  thine  own,  they  sacred  are. 

And  must  be  kept  with  reverence ;  as  if  thou 

No  other  use  of  precious  gold  didst  know, 

But  that  of  curious  pictures,  to  delight 

With  the  fair  stamp  thy  virtuoso  sight. 

The  only  true  and  genuine  use  is  this. 

To  buy  the  things,  which  nature  cannot  miss 

Without  discomfort ;  oil,  and  vital  bread, 

And  wine,  by  which  the  life  of  life  is  fed, 

And  all  those  few  things  else  by  which  we  live. 

All  that  remains,  is  giv'n  for  thee  to  give; 

If  cares  and  troubles,  envy,  grief,  and  fear, 

The  bitter  fruits  be,  which  fair  riches  bear; 

If  a  new  poverty  grow  out  of  store ; 

The  old  plain  way,  ye  gods !  let  me  be  poor. 

■*  Prettily  expressed  in  Ovid's  manner ;  but  that  is  not  the 
manner  of  Horace,  who  says  elegantly  but  simply, — 

" fugientia  captat 

Flumina .'' 


-% 


94  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 

PARAPHRASE  ON  HORACE,  B.  HI.  OD.  XVI. 
(^Inclusam  Dana'en  turris  ahenea^  Sfc.) 


TOWER  of  brass,  one  would  have  said. 

And  locks,  and  bolts,  and  iron  bars, 

And  guards,  as  strict  as  in  the  heat  of  wars. 
Might  have  at  least  preserv'd  one  innocent  maid. 
The  jealous  father  thought,  he  well  might  spare 

All  further  jealous  care; 
And,  as  he  walk'd,  t'himself  alone  he  smil'd. 

To  think  how  Venus'  arts  he  had  beguil'd  ; 

And,  when  he  slept,  his  rest  was  deep. 
But  Venus  laugh'd  to  see  and  hear  him  sleep. 

She  taught  the  amorous  Jove 

A  magical  receipt  in  love, 
Which  arm'd  him  stronger,  and  which  help'd  him  more. 
Than  all  his  thunder  did,  and  his  almighty -ship  before. 

2. 
She  taught  him  love's  elixir,  by  which  art 
His  godhead  into  gold  he  did  convert : 

No  guards  did  then  his  passage  stay. 

He  pass'd  with  ease ;  gold  was  the  word ; 
Subtle,  as  lightning,  bright  and  quick  and  fierce. 

Gold  through  doors  and  walls  did  pierce. 

The  prudent  Macedonian  king, 
To  blow  up  towns,  a  golden  mine  did  spring. 

He  broke  through  gates  with  this  petar, 
'Tis  the  great  art  of  peace,  the  engine  'tis  of  war ; 

And  fleets  and  armies  follow  it  afar  : 
The  ensign  'tis  at  land,  and  'tis  the  seaman's  star. 


ON  AVARICE.  95 


Let  all  the  world  slave  to  this  tyrant  be, 
Creature  to  this  disguised  deity, 

Yet  it  shall  never  conquer  me. 
A  guard  of  virtues  will  not  let  it  pass. 
And  wisdom  is  a  tower  of  stronger  brass. 
The  Muse's  laurel,'^  round  my  temples  spread, 
Does  from  this  lightning's  force  secure  my  head. 

Xor  will  I  lift  it  up  so  high. 
As  in  the  violent  meteor's  way  to  lie.° 
Wealth  for  its  power  do  we  honour  and  adore  ? 
The  things  we  hate,  ill  fate,  and  death,  have  more. 

4. 

From  towns  and  courts,  camps  of  the  rich  and  great, 
The  vast  Xerxean  army,  I  retreat. 
And  to  the  small  Laconic  forces  fly,''' 

Which  hold  the  straights  of  poverty. 


^  A  very  poetical  manner  of  expressing   that   plain   senti- 
ment,— 

" vatis  avarus 

Non  temere  est  animus " 

Hor.  Ep.  II.  i.  119. 
The  common  superstition  makes  the  laurel   a  preservative 
against  lightning. 

^  All  this  imagery  is  extracted  out  of  a  fine,  indeed,  but  simple 
enough  verse  of  the  original, — 

" jure  perhorrui 

Late  conspicuum  tollere  verticem." 
'  A  forced  unnatural  allusion,  for  the  sake  of  introducing  a 
quibble.  The  straights  of  poverty — the  word  straights  meaning 
a  narrow  pass  like  that  of  Thermopylag,  which  the  small  Laconic 
forces  guarded  against  the  vast  Xerxean  army,  and  distresses  or 
difficulties,  such  as  men  are  put  to  ■when  they  have  to  contend 
with  poverty. 


96  COWLEY'S   ESSAYS. 

Cellars  and  granaries  in  vain  we  fill, 
With  all  the  summer's  store, 

If  the  mind  thirst  and  hunger  still: 

The  poor  rich  man's  emphatically  poor.*' 
Slave  to  the  things  we  too  much  prize, 

We  masters  grow  of  all  that  we  despise. 

5. 

A  field  of  corn,  a  fountain,  and  a  wood, 

Is  all  the  wealth  by  nature  understood. 
The  monarch,  on  whom  fertile  Nile  bestows 

All  which  that  grateful  earth  can  bear. 

Deceives  himself,  if  he  suppose 
That  more  than  this  falls  to  his  share. 
Whatever  an  estate  does  beyond  this  aiford, 

Is  not  a  rent  paid  to  the  lord  ; 
But  is  a  tax  illegal  and  unjust, 
Exacted  from  it  by  the  tyrant  lust. 

Much  will  always  wanting  be, 

To  him  who  much  desires.     Thrice  happy  he 
To  whom  the  wise  indulgency  of  heaven. 

With  sparing  hand,  but  just  enough  has  given. 


^  This  line  occurs  before,  on  p.  89.     It  seems  to  have  been  a     | 
favourite  with  the  poet,  as  it  is,  indeed,  a  very  fine  one. 


DANGERS    OF  AN  HONEST  MAN 


VIII. 

THE  DANGERS  OF  AN  HONEST  MAN  IN 

MUCH  COlMPANY.i 

|F  twenty  thousand  naked  Americans  were 
not  able  to  resist  the  assaults  of  but  twenty 
well-armed  Spaniards,  I  see  little  possibility 
for  one  honest  man  to  defend  himself  against 
twenty  thousand  knaves,  who  are  all  furnished  cap  dpiiy 
with  the  defensive  arms  of  worldly  prudence,  and  the 
offensive,  too,  of  craft  and  malice.  He  will  find  no  less 
odds  than  this  against  him,  if  he  have  much  to  do  in 
human  affairs.  The  only  advice  therefore  which  I  can 
give  him  is,  to  be  sure  not  to  venture  his  person  any 
longer  in  the  open  campaign,  to  retreat  and  entrench 
himself,  to  stop  up  all  avenues,  and  draw  up  all  bridges 
against  so  numerous  an  enemy. 

The  truth  of  it  is,  that  a  man  in  much  business  must 


'  *'  The  pure  virtue  of  Cowley,  clouded  by  chagrin,  and, 
perhaps,  a  constitutional  melancholy,  could  scarce  fail  of  taking 
somewhat  too  much  of  the  character  of  a  misanthrope ;  yet  hi? 
good  sense  and  good  temper  generally  kept  him  from  any  ex- 
travagance in  the  expression  of  it,  except  in  this  chapter." — 
So  far  Hurd.  Any  one  who  knows  the  baser  part  of  mankind 
will  not  think  Cowley  at  all  extravagant. 

H 


98  CO IV LEY'S    ESSAYS. 

either  make  himself  a  knave,  or  else  the  world  will  make 
him  a  fool:  and,  if  the  injury  went  no  farther  than  the 
being  laughed  at,  a  wise  man  would  content  himself  with 
the  revenge  of  retaliation  ;  but  the  case  is  much  worse, 
for  these  civil  cannibals  too,  as  well  as  the  wild  ones,  not 
only  dance  about  such  a  taken  stranger,^  but  at  last 
devour  him.  A  sober  man  cannot  get  too  soon  out  of 
drunken  company,  though  they  be  never  so  kind  and 
merry  among  themselves  ;  it  is  not  unj^jleasant  only,  but 
dangerous  to  him. 

Do  ye  wonder  that  a  virtuous  man  should  love  to  be 
alone  ?  It  is  hard  for  him  to  be  otherwise ;  he  is  so, 
when  he  is  among  ten  thousand  :  neither  is  the  solitude 
so  uncomfortable  to  be  alone  without  any  other  creature, 
as  it  is  to  be  alone  in  the  midst  of  wild  beasts.  Man  is 
to  man  all  kind  of  beasts  ;  a  fawning  dog,  a  roaring  lion, 
a  thieving  fox,  a  robbing  wolf,  a  dissembling  crocodile,  a 
treacherous  decoy,  and  a  rapacious  vulture.  The  civilcst, 
methinks,  of  all  nations,  are  those,  whom  we  account  the 
most  barbarous ;  there  is  some  moderation  and  good- 
nature in  the  Toupinambaltians.  who  eat  no  men  but 
their  enemies,  whilst  we  learned  and  polite  and  Chris- 
tian Europeans,  like  so  many  pikes  and  sharks,  prey  upon 
everything  that  we  can  swallow.  It  is  the  great  boast 
of  eloquence  and  philosophy,  that  they  first  congregated 
men  dispersed,  united  them  into  societies,  and  built  up 
the  houses  and  the  walls  of  cities.  I  wish,  they  could  un- 
ravel all  they  had  woven  ;  that  we  might  have  our  woods 
and  our  innocence  again,  instead  of  our  castles  and  our 
policies.     They  have  assembled  many  thousands  of  scat- 

2  Taken  in  the  double  sense  cf  seized  and  circumvented,  that 
is,  surprised  by  force  or  fraud.  Cupius,  in  Latin,  has  the  same 
ambiguity. 


DAXGERS    OF   AN  HOXEST  MAX.  99 

tered  people  into  one  body  :  it  is  true,  they  have  done 
so;  they  have  brought  them  into  cities  to  cozen,  and 
into  armies  to  murder  one  another :  they  found  them 
hunters  and  fishers  of  wild  creatures  ;  they  have  made 
them  hunters  and  fishers  of  their  brethren  ;  they  boast 
to  have  reduced  them  to  a  state  of  peace,  when  the  truth 
is,  they  have  only  taught  them  an  art  of  war  ;  they  have 
framed,  I  must  confess,  wholesome  laws  for  the  restraint 
of  vice,  but  they  raised  first  that  devil,  which  now  they 
conjure  and  cannot  bind  ;  though  there  were  before  no 
punishments  for  wickedness,  yet  there  was  less  com- 
mitted, because  there  were  no  rewards  for  it. 

But  the  men,  who  praise  philosophy  from  this  topic, 
are  much  deceived ;  let  oratory  answer  for  itself,  the 
tinkling  perhaps  of  that  may  unite  a  swarm :  it  never 
was  the  work  of  philosophy  to  assemble  multitudes,  but 
to  regulate  only,  and  govern  them,  when  they  were  as- 
sembled ;  to  make  the  best  of  an  evil,  and  bring  them, 
as  much  as  is  possible,  to  unity  again.  Avarice  and  am- 
bition only  were  the  first  builders  of  towns,  and  founders 
of  empire ;  they  said,  Go  to,  let  us  build  us  a  city  and  a  tower 
whose  top  may  reach  unto  heaven,  and  let  us  make  us  a 
name,  lest  ice  be  scattered  abroad  upon  the  face  of  the  earth:* 
What  was  the  beginning  of  Rome,  the  metropolis  of  all 
the  world  ?  what  was  it,  but  a  concourse  of  thieves,  and 
a  sanctuary  of  criminals?  It  was  justly  named  by  the 
augury  of  no  less  than  twelve  vultures,  and  the  founder 
cemented  his  walls  with  the  blood  of  his  brother.  Not 
unlike  to  this  was  the  beginning  even  of  the  first  town 
too  in  the  world,  and  such  is  the  original  sin  of  most 
cities  :  their  actual  increase  daily  with  their  age  and 
growth  :  the  more  people,  the  more  wicked  all  of  them ; 

^  Geu.  xi.  4. 


1  oo  CO  WLEY'  S   ESS  A  VS. 

every  one  brings  in  his  part  to  inflame  the  contagion, 
which  becomes  at  last  so  universal  and  so  strong,  that 
DO  precepts  can  be  sufficient  preservatives,  nor  any  thing 
secure  our  safety,  but  flight  from  among  the  infected. 

We  ought,  in  the  choice  of  a  situation,  to  regard, 
above  all  things,  the  healthfulness  of  the  place,  and 
the  healthfulness  of  it  for  the  mind,  rather  than  for 
the  body.  But  suppose  (which  is  hardly  to  be  sup- 
posed) we  had  antidote  enough  against  this  poison  ; 
nay,  suppose  further,  we  were  always  and  at  all  pieces 
armed  and  provided,  both  against  the  assaults  of  hos- 
tility, and  the  mines  of  treachery,  it  will  yet  be  but 
an  uncomfortable  life  to  be  ever  in  alarms  ;  though  we 
were  compassed  round  with  fire,  to  defend  ourselves 
from  wild  beasts,  the  lodging  would  be  unpleasant,  be- 
cause we  must  always  be  obliged  to  watch  that  fire,  and 
to  fear  no  less  the  defects  of  our  guard,  than  the  dili- 
gences of  our  enemy.  The  sum  of  this  is,  that  a  virtuous 
man  is  in  danger  to  be  trod  upon  and  destroyed  in  the 
crowd  of  his  contraries,  nay,  which  is  worse,  to  be 
changed  and  corrupted  by  them ;  and  that  it  is  impos- 
sible to  escape  both  these  inconveniences  without  so  much 
caution,  as  will  take  away  the  whole  quiet,  that  is,  the 
happiness,  of  his  life. 

Ye  see,  then,  what  he  may  lose ;  but,  I  pray,  what 
can  he  get  there  ? 

Quid  Eomse  faciam?  Mentiri  nescio.* 

What  should  a  man  of  truth  and  honesty  do  at  Rome  ? 
He  can  neither  understand  nor  speak  the  language  of 
the  place ;  a  naked  man  may  swim  in  the  sea,  but  it  is 
not  the  way  to  catch  fish  there  ;  they  are   likelier  to 

*  Juv.  Sat.  iii.  41. 


DANGERS    OF  AX  HONEST  MAN.  loi 

devour  him,  than  he  them,  if  he  bring  no  nets,  and  use 
no  deceits.  I  think,  therefore,  it  was  wise  and  friendly 
advice,  which  Martial  gave  to  Fabian,'^  when  he  met  him 
newly  arrived  at  Rome  : 

Honest  and  poor,  faithful  in  word  and  thought ; 

What  has  thee,  Fabian,  to  the  city  brought? 

Thou  neither  the  bufFoou  nor  bawd  canst  play, 

Nor  with  false  whispers  th'  innocent  betray  ; 

Xor  corrupt  wives,  nor  from  rich  beldams  get 

A  living  by  thy  industry  and  sweat ; 

Xor  with  vain  promises  and  projects  cheat, 

Xor  bribe  or  flatter  any  of  the  great. 

But  you're  a  man  of  learning,  prudent,  just; 

A  man  of  courage,  firm,  and  fit  for  trust. 

Why  you  may  stay,  and  live  unenvied  here; 

But  (faith)  go  back,  and  keep  you  where  you  were. 

Nay,  if  nothing  of  all  this  were  in  the  case,  yet  the 
very  sight  of  uncleanness  is  loathsome  to  the  cleanly  ;  the 
sight  of  folly  and  impiety,  vexatious  to  the  wise  and  pious- 

Lucretius,*"  by  his  favour,  though  a  good  poet,  was 
but  an  ill-natured  man,  when  he  said,  it  was  delight- 
ful to  see  other  men  in  a  great  storm  :  and  no  less  ill- 
natured  should  I  think  Democritus,  who  laughed  at  all 
the  world,  but  that  he  retired  himself  so  much  out  of  it, 
that  we  may  perceive  he  took  no  great  pleasure  in  that 
kind  of  mirth.  I  have  been  drawn  twice  or  thrice  by 
company  to  go  to  Bedlam,  and  have  seen  others  very 
much  delighted  with  the  fantastical  extravagancy  of  so 
many  various  madnesses,  which  upon  me  wrought  so 
contrary  an  effect,  that  I  always  returned,  not  only 
melancholy,  but  even  sick  with  the  sight.  My  compas- 
sion there  was  perhaps  too  tender,  for  I  meet  a  thousand 
madmen  abroad,  without  any  perturbation ;  though,  t^ 

^  Mart.  iv.  Ep.  5.  ^  Lucretius,  lib.  ii. 


102  COWLEY'S   ESSAYS. 

weigh  the  matter  justly,  the  total  loss  of  reason  is  less 
deplorable  than  the  total  depravation  of  it.  An  exact 
judge  of  human  blessings,  of  riches,  honours,  beauty, 
even  of  wit  itself,  should  pity  the  abuse  of  them,  more 
than  the  want. 

Briefly,  though  a  wise  man  could  pass  never  so 
securely  through  the  great  roads  of  human  life,  yet  he 
will  meet  perpetually  with  so  many  objects  and  occa- 
sions of  compassion,  grief,  shame,  anger,  hatred,  indigna- 
tion, and  all  passions  but  envy  (for  he  will  find  nothing 
to  deserve  that),  that  he  had  better  strike  into  some 
private  path  ;  nay,  go  so  far,  if  he  could,  out  of  the 
common  way,  "  ut  nee  facta  audiat  Pelopidarum  ;''  that 
he  might  not  so  much  as  hear  of  the  actions  of  the  sons 
of  Adam.  But,  whither  shall  we  fly  then  ?  into  the 
deserts  like  the  antient  Hermits  ? 

— Qua  terra  patet,  fera  regnat  Erinnys, 
In  facinus  jurasse  putes.'^ 

One  would  think  that  all  mankind  had  bound  them- 
selves by  an  oath  to  do  all  the  wickedness  they  can  ;  that 
they  had  all  (as  the  Scripture  speaks)  sold  themselves  to 
sin :  the  difference  only  is,  that  some  are  a  little  more 
crafty  (and  but  a  little,  God  knows),  in  making  of  the 
bargain.  I  thought,  when  I  went  first  to  dwell  in  the 
country,  that,  without  doubt,  I  should  have  met  there 
with  the  simplicity  of  the  old  poetical  golden  age ;  I 
thought  to  have  found  no  inhabitants  there,  but  such  as 
the  shepherds  of  Sir  Philip  Sydney  in  Arcadia,  or  of 
Monsieur  d'Urfe  upon  the  banks  of  Lignon  ;  and  began 
to  consider  with  myself,  which  way  I  might  recommend 
no  less  to  posterity  the  happiness  and  innocence  of  the 

7  Ovid,  Metara.  i.  241. 


DANGERS    OF  AN   HONEST  3IAN.  103 

men  of  Chertsea :  but,  to  confess  the  truth,  I  perceived 
quickly,  bv  infallible  demonstrations,  that  I  was  still  in 
Old  England,  and  not  in  Arcadia,  or  La  Forrest ;  that, 
if  I  could  not  content  myself  with  any  thing  less  than 
exact  fidelity  in  human  conversation,  I  had  almost  as 
good  go  back  and  seek  for  it  in  the  Court,  or  the 
Exchange,  or  Westminster-hall.  I  ask  again  then, 
whither  shall  we  fly,  or  what  shall  we  do  ?  The  world 
may  so  come  in  a  man's  way,  that  he  cannot  choose  but 
salute  it ;  he  must  take  heed,  though,  not  to  go  a  whoring 
after  it.  If,  by  any  lawful  vocation,  or  just  necessity, 
men  happen  to  be  married  to  it,  I  can  only  give  thera 
St.  Paul's  advice  :  Brethren,  the  time  is  short ;  it  remains, 
that  ther/,  that  have  wives,  be  as  though  they  had  none. — 
But  I  iL'ould  that  all  men  were  even  as  I  myself.^ 

In  all  cases,  they  must  be  sure,  that  they  do  mundum 
ducere,  and  not  mundo  nuhere.  They  must  retain  the 
superiority  and  headship  over  it ;  happy  are  they,  who 
can  get  out  of  the  sight  of  this  deceitful  beauty,  that 
they  may  not  be  led  so  much  as  into  temptation  ;  who 
have  not  only  quitted  the  metropolis,  but  can  abstain 
from  ever  seeing  the  next  market  town  of  their  country. 

CLAUDIAX'S  OLD  :\L\X  OF  VEROXA. 

De  sene  Yeronensi,  qui  suburbium  nunquam  escressus  est. 

K^p^^ELIX,  qui  patriis  revum  transegit  in  agris ; 
H  ng^J       Ipsa  domus  puerum  quera  videt,  ipsa  senem  : 
Qui  baculo  nitens,  in  qua  reptavit  arena, 


8  1  Cor.  vii.  29. 


I04  COWLEY'S   ESSAYS. 

Unius  numeret  secula  longa  casae. 
Ilium  non  vario  traxit  fortuna  tumultu, 

Nee  bibit  ignotas  mobilis  hospes  aquas. 
Non  freta  mercata  tremuit,  non  classica  miles  : 

Non  rauci  lites  pertulit  ille  fori. 
Indocilis  rerum,  vicinae  nescius  urbis 

Adspectu  fruitur  liberiore  poli, 
Frugibus,  alternis,  non  Consule,  computat  annum  : 

Autumnum  pomis,  ver  sibi  flore  notat. 
Idem  condit  ager  Soles,  idemque  reducit, 

Metiturque  suo  rusticus  orbe  diem. 
Ingentem  meminit  parvo  qui  germine  quercum, 

^quaevumque  videt  consenuisse  nemus. 
Proxima  cui  nigris  Verona  remotior  Indis, 

Benacumque  putat  litora  rubra  lacum. 
Sed  tamen  indomitas  vires,  firmisque  lacertis 

iEtas  robustum  tertia  cernit  aevum. 
Erret,  et  extremes  alter  scrutetur  Iberos  ; 

Plus  babet  hie  vitae,  plus  habet  ille  viae." 

Happy  the  man,  who  his  whole  time  doth  bound 

Within  th'  inclosure  of  his  little  ground. 

Happy  the  man,  whom  the  same  humble  place 

(Th'  hereditary  cottage  of  his  race) 

From  his  first  rising  infancy  has  known, 

And  by  degrees  sees  gently  bending  down, 

With  natural  propension,  to  that  earth 

Which  both  preserv'd  his  life,  and  gave  him  birth. 

Him  no  false  distant  lights,  by  fortune  set, 

Could  ever  into  foolish  wand'rings  get. 

He  never  dangers  either  saw,  or  fear'd  : 

The  dreadful  storms  at  sea  he  never  heard. 

He  never  heard  the  shrill  alarms  of  war, 

Or  the  worse  noises  of  the  lawyers'  bar. 


DAXGERS    OF    AX  IIOXEST  MAX.  105 

No  change  of  consuls  marks  to  him  the  year, 

The  change  of  seasons  is  his  calendar. 

The  cold  and  heat,  winter  and  summer  shows ; 

Autumn  by  fruits,  and  spring  by  flowers  he  knows, 

He  measures  time  by  land-marks,  and  has  found 

For  the  whole  day  the  dial  of  his  ground. 

A  neighbouring  wood,  born  with  himself,  he  sees, 

And  loves  his  old  contemporary  trees. 

He  has  only  heard  of  near  Verona's  name. 

And  knows  it,  like  the  Indies,  but  by  fame. 

Does  with  a  like  concernment  notice  take 

Of  the  Red-sea,  and  of  Benacus'  lake. 

Thus  health  and  strength  he  to  a  third  age  enjoys. 

And  sees  a  long  posterity  of  boys. 

About  the  spacious  world  let  others  roam. 

The  voyage,  life,  is  longest  made  at  home. 


[o6 


COWLEY^'S    ESSAYS. 


IX. 

THE    SHOETNESS   OF   LIFE,   AND 

LWCEETAINTY   OF  EICHES. 


jF  you  sliould  see  a  man,  who  were  to  cross 
from  Dover  to  Calais,  run  about  very  busy 
and  solicitous,  and  trouble  himself  many 
weeks  before  in  making  provisions  for  his 
voyage,  Avould  you  commend  him  for  a  cautious  and 
discreet  person,  or  laugh  at  him  for  a  timorous  and  im- 
pertinent coxcomb  ?  A  man,  who  is  excessive  in  his 
pains  and  diligence,  and  who  consumes  the  greatest  part 
of  his  time  in  furnishing  the  remainder  with  all  conve- 
niences and  even  superfluities,  is  to  angels  and  wise  men 
no  less  ridiculous ;  he  does  as  little  consider  the  short- 
ness of  his  passage,  that  he  might  proportion  his  cares 
accordingly.  It  is,  alas,  so  narrow  a  str eight  betwixt. 
the  womb  and  the  grave,  that  it  might  be  called  the  Pas 
de  Vie^  as  well  as  that  the  Pas  cle  Calais. 

We  are  all  tc^i^i^iipoL^  (as  Pindar  calls  us,)  creatures  of 
a  day,  and  therefore  our  Saviour  bounds  our  desires  to 
that  little  space  ;  as  if  it  were  very  probable  that  every 
day  should  be  our  last,  we  are  taught  to  demand  even 
bread  for  no  longer  a  time.  The  sun  ought  not  to  set 
upon  our  covetousuess,  no  more  than  upon  our  anger ; 


THE    SHORTXESS    OF   LIFE.  icy 

but,  as  to  God  Almighty  a  thousand  years  are  as  one 
day,  so,  in  direct  opposition,  one  day  to  the  covetous 
man  is  as  a  thousand  years;  "tarn  brevi  fortis  jaculatur 
ffivo  multa,"  so  far  he  shoots  beyond  his  butt :  one  would 
think,  he  were  of  the  opinion  of  the  Millenaries,  and 
hoped  for  so  long  a  reign  upon  earth.  The  patriarchs 
before  the  flood,  who  enjoyed  almost  such  a  life,  made, 
we  are  sure,  less  stores  tor  the  maintaining  of  it ;  they, 
who  lived  nine  hundred  years,  scarcely  provided  for  a 
few  days ;  we,  who  live  but  a  few  days,  provide  at  least 
for  nine  hundred  years.  What  a  strange  alteration  is 
this  of  human  life  and  manners  !  and  yet  we  see  an  imi- 
tation of  it  in  every  man's  particular  experience  ;  for  we 
begin  not  the  cares  of  life,  till  it  be  half  spent,  and  still 
increase  them,  as  that  decreases. 

What  is  there  among  the  actions  of  beasts  so  illogical 
and  repugnant  to  reason  ?  AVhen  they  do  any  thing, 
which  seems  to  proceed  from  that  which  we  call  reason, 
we  disdain  to  allow  them  that  perfection,  and  attribute 
it  only  to  a  natural  instinct :  and  are  not  we  fools,  too, 
by  the  same  kind  of  instinct  ?  If  we  could  but  learn  to 
number  our  days  (as  we  are  taught  to  pray  that  we 
might),  we  should  adjust  much  better  our  other  ac- 
counts ;  but,  whilst  we  never  consider  an  end  of  them, 
it  is  no  wonder  if  our  cares  for  them  be  without  end, 
too.  Horace  advises  very  wisely,  and  in  excellent  good 
words, 

—  Spatio  brevi 
Spera  longam  reseces — ^ 

from  a  short  life  cut  off  all  hopes  that  grow  too  long. 
They  must  be  pruned  away,  like  suckers,  that  choak  the 

*  Carm.  l.  xi.  6. 


io8  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 

mother-plant,  and  hinder  it  from  bearing  fruit.  And  in 
another  place,  to  the  same  sense, 

Vitae  summa  bi'evis  spem  nos  vetat  inclioare  longam  ;2 

which  Seneca  does  not  mend  when  he  says,  "Oh!  (quanta 
dementia  est  spes  longas  inchoantium  ! "  but  he  gives  an 
example  there  of  an  acquaintance  of  his,  named  Senecio, 
who,  from  a  very  mean  beginning,  by  great  industry  in 
turning  about  of  money  through  all  ways  of  gain,  had 
attained  to  extraordinary  riches,  but  died  on  a  sudden 
after  having  supped  merrily,  "In  ipso  actu  bene  ceden- 
tiuni  rerum,  in  ipso  procurrentis  fortunas  impetu,"  in 
the  full  course  of  his  good  fortune,  when  she  had  a  high 
tide,  and  a  stiff  gale,  and  all  her  sails  on ;  upon  which 
occasion  he  cries,  out  of  Virgil,'^ 

"Infere  nunc,  Melib^ee,  pyros;  poiie  ordine  vites!" 

Go,  Meliboeus,  now, 

Go  graflF  thy  orchards,  and  thy  vineyards  plant; 
Behold  theVruit ! 

For  this  Senecio  I  have  no  compassion,  because  he 
was  taken,  as  we  say,  in  ipso  facto,  still  labouring  in  the 
work  of  avarice ;  but  the  poor  rich  man  in  St.  Luke 
(whose  case  was  not  like  this)  I  could  pity,  methink^,  if 
the  Scripture  would  permit  me ;  for  he  seems  to  have 
been  satisfied  at  last,  he  confesses  he  had  enough  for 
many  years,  he  bids  his  soul  take  its  ease  ;  and  yet,  for  all 
that,  God  says  to  him.  Thou  fool,  this  night  thy  soul  shall 
be  required  of  thee ;  and  the  things  thou  hast  laid  up,  who 
shall  they  belong  to?*  Where  shall  we  find  the  causes 
of  this  bitter  reproach  and  terrible  judgment  ?    We  may 

-  Hor.  Cann.  i.  iv.  15.         ^  Buc.  i.  74.         "*  Luke  xii.  20. 


THE    SHORTXESS    OF   LIFE.  109 

find,  I  think,  two ;  and  God,  perhaps,  saw  more.  First, 
that  he  did  not  intend  true  rest  to  his  soul,  but  only  to 
change  the  employments  of  it  from  avarice  to  luxury ; 
his  design  is,  to  eat  and  to  drink,  and  to  be  merry. 
Secondly,  that  he  went  on  too  long  before  he  thought  of 
resting;  the  fulness  of  his  old  barns  had  not  sufficed 
him,  he  would  stay  till  he  was  forced  to  build  new  ones ; 
and  God  meted  out  to  him  in  the  same  measure ;  since 
he  would  have  more  riches  than  his  life  could  contain, 
God  destroyed  his  life,  and  gave  the  fruits  of  it  to 
another. 

Thus  God  takes  away  sometimes  the  man  from  his 
riches,  and  no  less  frequently  riches  from  the  man :  what 
hope  can  there  be  of  such  a  marriage,  where  both  parties 
are  so  fickle  and  uncertain  ?  by  what  bonds  can  such  a 
couple  be  kept  long  together  ? 


1. 

jHY  dost  thou  heap  up  wealth,  which  thou  must 
quit. 
Or,  what  is  worse,  be  left  by  it  ? 
^Vhy  dost  thou  load  thyself,  when  thou'rt  to  fly, 
Oh  man,  ordain'd  to  die  ? 


"Why  dost  thou  build  up  stately  rooms  on  high, 
Thou  who  art  under  ground  to  lie  ? 

Thou  sow'st  and  plantest,  but  no  fruit  must  see, 
For  death,  alas !  is  sowing  thee.^ 

^  An  apostolic  idea,  (see  1  Cor.  xv.  44),  i.e.  death  sous  the 
animal  body,  that  a  spiritual  may  spring  up  from  it. 


no  COWLEY'S   ESSAYS. 

3. 

Suppose,  thou  fortune  could'st  to  tameness  bring, 

And  clip  or  pinion  her  wing; 
Suppose,  thou  coukl'st  on  fate  so  far  prevail, 

As  not  to  cut  off  thj  entail ; 

4. 
Yet  death  at  all  that  subtilty  will  laugh. 

Death  will  that  foolish  gard'ner  mock, 
"Who  does  a  slight  and  annual  plant  engraff, 

Upon  a  lasting  stock. 

o. 

Thou  dost  thyself  wise  and  industrious  deem; 

A  mighty  husband  thou  would'st  seem ; 
Fond  man !  like  a  bought  slave,  thou  all  the  while 

Dost  but  for  others  sweat  and  toil. 

6. 
Officious  fool !  that  needs  must  meddling  be 

In  business,  that  concerns  not  thee ! 
For  when  to  future  years  thou  extend'st  thy  cares, 

Thou  deal'st  in  other  men's  affairs.^ 

7. 
Even  aged  men,  as  if  they  truly  were 

Children  again,  for  age  prepare; 
Provisions  for  long  travel  they  design, 

In  the  last  point  of  their  short  line. 

^  Properly  so,  and  still  more  inexcusably  than  the  meddling 
bankrupt  in  Horace  : — 

"  — aliena  negotia  euro 
Excussus  propriis." — Sat.  ii.  ill.  19. 


THE    SHORTXESS    OF  LIFE. 

8. 
"Wisely  the  ant  against  poor  winter  boards 

The  stock,  which  summer's  wealth  affords : 
In  grasshoppers,  that  must  at  autumn  die, 

How  vain  were  such  an  industry  ! 

9. 
Of  power  and  honour  the  deceitful  light 

Might  half  excuse  our  cheated  sight, 
If  it  of  life  the  whole  small  time  would  stay, 

And  be  our  sun-shine  all  the  day; 

10. 

Like  lightning,  that,  begot  but  in  a  cloud, 

(Though  shining  bright,  and  speaking  loud) 

"Whilst  it  begins,  concludes  its  violent  race, 

And  where  it  gilds,  it  wounds  the  place. 

11. 
Oh,  scene  of  fortune,  which  dost  fair  appear. 

Only  to  men  that  stand  not  near ! 
Proud  poverty,  that  tinsel  bravery  wears  ! 

And,  like  a  rainbow,  painted  tears ! 

12. 
Be  prudent,  and  the  shore  in  prospect  keep, 

In  a  weak  boat  trust  not  the  deep. 
Plac'd  beneath  envy,  above  envying  rise  ; 

Pity  great  men,  great  things  despise. 

13. 

The  wise  example  of  the  heavenly  lark, 
Thy  fellow-poet,  Cowley,  mark  ; 

Above  the  clouds,  let  thy  proud  music  sound, 
Thy  humble  nest  build  on  the  ground. 


COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 


THE  DANGER  OF  PROCRASTINATION. 


A  Letter  to  Mr.  S.  L. 


AM  glad  that  you  approve  and  applaud  my 
design,  of  withdrawing  myself  from  all  tu- 
mult and  business  of  the  world  ;  and  conse- 
crating the  little  rest  of  my  time  to  those 
studies,  to  which  nature  had  so  motherly  inclined  me, 
and  from  which  fortune,  like  a  step-mother,  has  so  long 
detained  me.  But  nevertheless  (you  say,  which,  but,  is 
"  aerugo  mera,"  ^  a  rust  which  spoils  the  good  metal  it 
grows  upon.  But  you  say)  you  would  advise  me  not 
to  precipitate  that  resolution,  but  to  stay  a  while  longer 
with  patience  and  complaisance,  till  I  had  gotten  such 
an  estate  as  might  afford  me  (according  to  the  saying  of 
that  person,  whom  you  and  I  love  very  much,  and  would 
believe  as  soon  as  another  man)  "  cum  dignitate  otium." 
This  were  excellent  advice  to  Joshua,  who  could  bid 
the  sun  stay  too.  But  there  is  no  fooling  with  life, 
when  it  is  once  turned  beyond  forty.  The  seeking  for 
a  fortune  then,  is  but  a  desperate  after-game  :    it  is  a 


Hor.  Sat.  i.  iv.  1 00. 


PROCRASTINATION.  113 

hundred  to  one,  if  a  man  fling  two  sixes,  and  recover 
all;  especially,  if  his  hand  be  no  luckier  than  mine. 

There  is  some  help  for  all  the  defects  of  fortune  ;  for, 
if  a  man  cannot  attain  to  the  length  of  his  wishes,  he 
may  have  his  remedy  by  cutting  of  them  shorter. 
Epicurus  writes  a  letter  to  Idomeneus  (who  was  then  a 
very  powerful,  wealthy,  and,  it  seems,  bountiful  person) 
to  recommend  to  him,  who  had  made  so  many  men  rich, 
one  Pythocles,  a  friend  of  his,  whom  he  desired  might  be 
made  a  rich  man  too  ;  "  but  I  intreat  you  that  you 
would  not  do  it  just  the  same  way  as  you  have  done  to 
many  less  deserving  persons,  but  in  the  most  gentle- 
manly manner  of  obliging  him,  which  is,  not  to  add  any 
thing  to  his  estate,  but  to  take  something  from  his 
desires." 

The  sum  of  this  is,  that,  for  the  uncertain  hopes  of 
some  conveniences,  we  ought  not  to  defer  the  execution 
of  a  work  that  is  necessary ;  especially,  when  the  use  of 
those  things,  which  we  would  stay  for,  may  otherwise 
be  supplied  ;  but  the  loss  of  time,  never  recovered  :  nay, 
farther  yet,  though  we  were  sure  to  obtain  all  that  we 
had  a  mind  to,  though  we  were  sure  of  getting  never  so 
much  by  continuing  the  game,  yet,  when  the  light  of 
life  is  so  near  going  out,  and  ought  to  be  so  precious,  "le 
jeu  ne  vaut  pas  la  chandelle,"  the  play  is  not  worth  the 
expense  of  the  candle  :  after  having  been  long  tost  in 
a  tempest,  if  our  masts  be  standing,  and  we  have  still  sail 
and  tackling  enough  to  carry  us  to  our  port,  it  is  no 
matter  for  the  want  of  streamers  and  top-gallants  ; 

utere  velis, 

Totos  pande  sinus — - 


2  Juv.  i,  150. 

I 


114  COWLEY'S   ESSAYS. 

A  gentleman  in  our  late  civil  wars,  when  his  quarters 
were  beaten  up  by  the  enemy,  was  taken  prisoner,  and 
lost  his  life  afterwards,  only  by  staying  to  put  on  a  band, 
and  adjust  his  perriwig  ;  he  would  escape  like  a  person 
of  quality,  or  not  at  all,  and  died  the  noble  martyr  of 
ceremony  and  gentility.  I  think,  your  counsel  of  "  Fes- 
tina  lente"  is  as  ill  to  a  man  who  is  flying  from  the 
world,  as  it  would  have  been  to  that  unfortunate  well- 
bred  gentleman,  who  was  so  cautious  as  not  to  fly  un- 
decently  from  his  enemies ;  and  therefore  I  prefer 
Horace's  advice  before  yours, 

sapere  aude, 

Incipe — 

Begin  ;  the  getting  out  of  doors  is  the  greatest  part  of 
the  journey.  Varro"*  teaches  us  that  Latin  proverb, 
"  portam  itineri  longissimam  esse  :"  but  to  return  to 
Horace, 

"  —  Sapere  aude : 
Incipe ;  Vivendi  recte  qui  prorogat  horam, 
Rusticus  exspectat,  dum  labitur  amnis :   at  ille 
Labitur,  et  labetur  in  omue  volubilis  ajvum.""* 

Begin,  be  bold,  and  venture  to  be  wise ; 

He  who  defers  this  work  from  day  to  day, 

Does  on  a  river's  bank  expecting  stay, 

Till  the  whole  stream,  which  stopt  him,  should  be  gone, 

That  runs,  and  as  it  runs,  for  ever  will  run  on.^ 


3  Lib.  i.  Agric.  "  Ep.  i.  ii.  40. 

^  This  translation  gives  the  sense,  but  not  the  grace,  of  the 
original ;  here  follows  Nevile's  Imitation. 

To  mend  his  life  who  has  it  in  his  power, 
Yet  still  defers  it  to  a  future  hour. 
Waits,  like  the  peasant,  till  the  stream  be  dried : 
Still  glides  the  stream,  and  will  for  ever  glide. 

Cowley's  misquotes  in  the  third,  "  labitur"  for  "  deflnat" 


PR  0  CRA  S  TIXA  TION.  1 1 5 

Csesar  (the  man  of  expedition  above  all  others)  was  so 
fiir  from  this  folly,  that  whensoever,  in  a  journey,  he  was 
to  cross  any  river,  he  never  went  one  foot  out  of  his  way 
for  a  bridge,  or  a  ford,  or. a  ferry  ;  but  flung  himself  into 
it  immediately,  and  swam  over  :  and  this  is  the  course  we 
ought  to  imitate,  if  we  meet  with  any  stops  in  our  way  to 
happiness.  Stay,  till  the  waters  are  low ;  stay,  till  some 
boats  come  by  to  transport  you  ;  stay,  till  a  bridge  be 
built  for  you :  you  had  even  as  good  stay,  till  the  river 
be  quite  past.  Persius  (who,  you  use  to  say,  you  do  not 
know  whether  he  be  a  good  poet  or  no,  because  you  can- 
not understand  him,  and  whom,  therefore,  I  say,  I  know 
to  be  not  a  good  poet)  has  an  odd  expression  of  these 
procrastinators,  which,  methinks,  is  full  of  fancy  : 

'•'Jam  eras  hesternum  consumpsimus ;   ecce  alhxd  eras 
Egerit  hos  anuos."^ 

Oar  yesterday's  to-morrow  now  is  gone, 
And  still  a  new  to-morrow  does  come  on ; 
AVe  by  to-morrows  draw  up  all  our  store, 
'Till  the  exhausted  well  can  yield  no  more. 

And  now,  I  think,  I  am  even  with  you,  for  your 
"  Otium  cum  dignitate,"  and  "  Festina  lente,"  and  three 
or  four  other  more  of  your  new  Latin  sentences  :  if  I 
should  draw  upon  you  all  my  forces  out  of  Seneca  and 
Plutarch  upon  this  subject,  I  should  overwhelm  you ; 
but  I  leave  those,  as  Triarii^'  for  your  next  charge.  I 
shall  only  give  you  now  a  light  skirmish  out  of  an  epi- 
grammatist, your  special  good  friend  ;  and  so,  vale. 

^  Pers.  Sat.  v.  68. 

"^  i.e.  As  the  last  and  chief  defence.  The  allusion  is  to  the 
order  of  the  Roman  armies,  in  which  the  Triarii,  as  they  were 
called,  served  in  the  rear,  and,  being  their  best  and  most  tried 
soldiers,  "were  reserved  to  sustain  the  action,  wlien  the  other  ranks 
were  defeated  or  hard  pressed,  and  the  success  became  doubtful. 


ii6  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 


MARTIALIS,  LIB.  \.  EPIGR.  LIX. 

jRAS  te  victurum,  eras  dicis,  Postume,  semper ; 
Die  mihi  eras  istud,  Postume,  quando  venit  ? 
Quam  longe  eras  istud  ?  ubi  est  ?  aut  unde  pe- 
tendum  ? 
Numquid  apud  Pai'thos,  Armenoisque  latet  ? 
Jam  eras  istud  liabet  Priami  vel  Nestoris  annos. 

Cras  istud  quanti,  die  mihi,  possit  emi  ? 
Cras  vives :  hodie  jam  vivere,  Postume,  serum  est, 
lUe  sapit,  quisquis,  Postume,  vixit  heri." 

To-morrow  you  will  live,  you  always  cry  ! 
In  what  far  country  does  this  morrow  lie. 
That  'tis  so  mighty  long  ere  it  arrive  ? 
Beyond  the  Indies  does  this  morrow  live  ? 
'Tis  so  far  feteh'd  this  morrow,  that  I  fear 
'TwiU  be  both  very  old  and  very  dear. 
To-morrow  I  will  live,  the  fool  does  say : 
To-day  itself 's  too  late  ;  the  wise  liv'd  yesterday. 


MAPvTIAL,  LIB.  II.  EPIGR.  XC. 


UINCTILIANE,  vagse  moderator  summe 
juventEe, 
Gloria  Romance,  Quinctiliane,  tog^e  ; 
Yivere  quod  propero  pauper,  nee  inutilis  annis ; 

Da  veniam  :  properat  vivere  nemo  satis. 
Dilferat  hoc,  patrios  optat  qui  vineere  census, 

Atriaque  immodieis  arctat  imaginibus. 
Me  focus,  et  nigros  non  indignantia  fumos 


PR  0  CRA  S  TINA  TION.  1 1 7 

Tecta  juvant,  et  fons  vivus,  et  lierba  rudis. 
Sit  mihi  verna  satur  :  sit  non  doctissima  conjux  : 
Sit  nox  cum  somno  :  sit  sine  lite  dies." 


Wonder  not,  Sir,  (yon  who  instruct  the  town 

In  the  true  wisdom  of  the  sacred  gown) 

That  I  make  haste  to  live,  and  cannot  hold 

Patiently  out,  till  I  grow  rich  and  old. 

Life  for  delays  and  doubts  no  time  does  give, 

]S'one  ever  yet  made  haste  enough  to  live. 

Let  him  defer  it,  whose  preposterous  care 

Omits  himself,  and  reaches  to  his  heir. 

Who  does  his  father's  bounded  stores  despise, 

And  whom  his  own  too  never  can  suffice  : 

My  humble  thoughts  no  glittering  roofs  require. 

Or  rooms,  that  shine  with  aught  but  constant  fire. 

I  well  content  the  avarice  of  my  sight 

With  the  fair  gildings  of  reflected  light : 

Pleasures  abroad,  the  sport  of  nature  yields 

Her  living  fountains,  and  her  smiling  fields ; 

And  then  at  home,  what  pleasure  is't  to  see 

A  little  cleanly  chearful  family  ! 

Which  if  a  chaste  wife  crown,  no  less  in  her 

Than  fortune,  I  the  golden  mean  prefer. 

Too  noble,  nor  too  wise,  she  should  not  be, 

!N'o,  nor  too  rich,  too  fair,  too  fond  of  me. 

Thus  let  my  life  slide  silently  away, 

With  sleep  all  night,  and  quiet  all  the  day. 


O^X 


COJFLEY'S    ESSAYS. 


XI. 
OF   MYSELF. 


\T  is  a  hard  and  nice  subject  for  a  man  to 
write  of  himself  ;^  it  grates  his  own  heart  to 
say  any  thing  of  disparagement,  and  the 
reader's  ears  to  hear  any  thing  of  praise  from 
him.  Tiiere  is  no  danger  from  me  of  offending  him  in 
this  kind  ;  neither  my  mind,  nor  my  body,  nor  my  for- 
tune, allow  me  any  materials  for  that  vanity.  It  is  suffi- 
cient for  my  own  contentment,  that  they  have  preserved 
me  from  being  scandalous,  or  remarkable  on  the  defective 
side.  But,  besides  that,  I  shall  here  speak  of  myself, 
only  in  relation  to  the  subject  of  these  precedent  dis- 
courses, and  shall  be  likelier  thereby  to  fall  into  the 
contempt,  than  rise  up  to  the  estimation,  of  most  people. 
As  far  as  my  memory  can  return  back  into  my  past 
life,  before  I  knew,  or  was  capable  of  guessing,  what  the 


»  This  is  commonly  said,  but  against  all  experience,  A  man 
of  worth  and  name  is  never  so  sure  to  please,  as  when  he  writes 
of  himself  with  good  faith,  and  without  aiFectation.  Hence  our 
delight  in  those  parts  of  Horace's,  Boileau's,  and  Pope's  works, 
in  which  those  eminent  writers  paint  themselves  ;  and  hence  the 
supreme  charm  of  Cowley's  Essays,  more  especially  of  ihis 
essav.— Bishop  Hurd. 


OF   3fYSELF.  119 

world,  or  the  glories  or  business  of  it,  were,  the  natural 
affections  of  my  soul  gave  me  a  secret  bent  of  aversion 
from  them,  as  some  plants  are  said  to  turn  away  from 
others,  by  an  antipathy  imperceptible  to  themselves,  and 
inscrutable  to  man's  understanding.  Even  when  I  was 
a  very  young  boy  at  school,  instead  of  running  about  on 
holy-days  and  playing  with  my  fellows,  I  was  wont  to 
steal  from  them,  and  walk  into  the  fields,  either  alone 
with  a  book,  or  with  some  one  companion,  if  I  could 
find  any  of  the  same  temper.  I  was  then,  too,  so  much 
an  enemy  to  all  constraint,  that  my  masters  could  never 
prevail  on  me,  by  any  persuasions  or  encouragements, 
to  learn  without  book  the  common  rules  of  grammar ; 
in  which  they  dispensed  with  me  alone,  because  they 
found  I  made  a  shift  to  do  the  usual  exercise  out  of  my 
own  reading  and  observation.  That  I  was  then  of  the 
same  mind  as  I  am  now  (which,  I  confess,  I  wonder  at, 
myself)  may  appear  by  the  latter  end  of  an  ode,  which 
I  made  when  I  was  but  thirteen  years  old,  and  which  was 
then  printed  with  many  other  verses.  The  beginning  of 
it  is  boyish  ;  but  of  this  part,  which  I  here  set  down  (if 
a  very  little  were  corrected),  I  should  hardly  now  be 
much  ashamed. 


9. 


^^SHIS  only  grant  me,  that  my  means  may  lie 
^  ^    Too  low  for  envy,  for  contempt  too  high. 
p-tSfffli  Some  honour  I  would  have. 

Not  from  great  deeds,  but  good  alone  ; 

The  unknown  are  better,  than  ill  known  ; 
Rumour  can  ope  the  grave. 

Acquaintance  I  would  have,  but  when  't  depends 

Not  on  the  number,  but  the  choice  of  friends. 


I20  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 

10. 
Books  should,  not  business,  entertain  the  light, 
And  sleep,  as  undisturb'd  as  death,  the  night. 

My  house  a  cottage  more 
Than  palace ;  and  should  fitting  be 
For  all  my  use,  no  luxury. 

My  garden  painted  o'er 
With  nature's  hand,  not  art's  ;  and  pleasures  yield, 
Horace  might  envy  in  his  Sabin  field. 

11. 
Thus  would  I  double  my  life's  fading  space ; 
For  he,  that  runs  it  well,  twice  runs  his  race. 

And  in  this  true  delight. 
These  unbought  sports,  this  happy  state, 
I  would  not  fear,  nor  wish,  my  fate ; 

But  boldly  say  each  night, 
To-morrow  let  my  sun  his  beams  display. 
Or,  in  clouds  hide  them ;  I  have  liv'd,  to-day. 

You  may  see  by  it,  I  was  even  then  acquainted  with 
the  poets  (for  the  conclusion  is  taken  out  of  Horace) ; " 
and  perhaps  it  was  the  immature  and  immoderate  love 
of  them,  which  stampt  first,  or  rather  engraved,  these 
characters  in  me :  they  were  like  letters  cut  into  the 
bark  of  a  young  tree,  which  with  the  tree  still  grow  pro- 
portionably.  But,  how  this  love  came  to  be  produced 
in  me  so  early,  is  a  hard  question :  I  believe,  I  can  tell 

■ille  potens  sui, 


Lajtusque  deget,  cui  licet  in  diem 
Dixisse,  Vixi :  eras  vel  atra 
Nube  polum,  Pater,  occupato, 
Vel  sole  puro." — Od.  iii.  xxix.  41. 


OF   MYSELF.  izi 

the  particular  little  chance  that  filled  my  head  first  with 
such  chimes  of  verse,  as  have  never  since  left  ringing 
there :  for  I  remember,  when  I  began  to  read,  and  to 
take  some  pleasure  in  it,  there  was  wont  to  lie  in  my 
mother's  parlour  (I  know  not  by  what  accident,  for  she 
herself  never  in  her  life  read  any  book  but  of  devotion) 
but  there  was  wont  to  lie  Spenser's  works  :  this  I  hap- 
pened to  fall  upon,  and  was  infinitely  delighted  with 
the  stories  of  the  knights,  and  giants,  and  monsters,  and 
brave  houses,  which  I  found  every  where  there  (though 
my  understanding  had  little  to  do  with  all  this) ;  and, 
by  degrees,  with  the  tinkling  of  the  rhyme  and  dance  of 
the  numbers ;  so  that,  I  think,  I  had  read  him  all  over 
before  I  was  twelve  years  old,  and  was  thus  made  a  poet 
as  immediately  as  a  child  is  made  an  eunuch. 

With  these  afiections  of  mind,  and  my  heart  wholly 
set  upon  letters,  I  went  to  the  university ;  but  was  soon 
torn  from  thence  by  that  violent  public  storm,  which 
would  suffer  nothing  to  stand  where  it  did,  but  rooted 
up  every  plant,  even  from  the  princely  cedars  to  me 
the  hyssop.  Yet,  I  had  as  good  fortune  as  could  have 
befallen  me  in  such  a  tempest ;  for  I  was  cast  by  it  into 
the  family  of  one  of  the  best  persons,  and  into  the  court 
of  one  of  the  best  princesses,  of  the  world.  Now,  though 
I  was  here  engaged  in  ways  most  contrary  to  the  original 
design  of  my  life,  that  is,  into  much  company,  and  no 
small  business,  and  into  a  daily  sight  of  greatness,  both 
militant  and  triumphant  (for  that  was  the  state  then  of 
the  English  and  French  courts)  ;  yet  all  this  was  so  far 
from  altering  my  opinion,  that  it  only  added  the  confir- 
mation of  reason  to  that  which  was  before  but  natural 
inclination.  I  saw  plainly  all  the  paint  of  that  kind  of 
life,  the  nearer  I  came  to  it ;  and  that  beauty,  which  I 
did  not  fall  in  love  with,  when,  for  aught  I  knew,  it 


122  COWLEY'S   ESSAYS. 

was  real,  was  not  like  to  bewitch  or  entice  me,  when  I 
saw  that  it  was  adulterate.  I  met  with  several  great 
persons,  whom  I  liked  very  well ;  but  could  not  perceive 
that  any  part  of  their  greatness  was  to  be  liked  or  de- 
sired, no  more  than  I  would  be  glad  or  content  to  be  in 
a  storm,  though  I  saw  many  ships  which  rid  safely  and 
bravely  in  it :  a  storm  would  not  agree  with  my  stomach, 
if  it  did  with  my  courage.  Though  I  was  in  a  crowd  of 
as  good  company  as  could  be  found  any  where,  though  I 
was  in  business  of  great  and  honourable  trust,  though  I 
ate  at  the  best  table,  and  enjoyed  the  best  conveniences 
for  present  subsistence  that  ought  to  be  desired  by  a 
man  of  my  condition  in  banishment  and  public  distresses ; 
yet  I  could  not  abstain  from  renewing  my  old  school- 
boy's wish,  in  a  copy  of  verses  to  the  same  effect : 

Well  then  ;  ^  I  now  do  plainly  see 

This  busy  world  and  I  shall  ne'er  agree,  &.C.. 

And  I  never  then  proposed  to  myself  any  other  advan- 
tage from  his  majesty's  happy  Restoration,  but  the 
getting  into  some  moderately  convenient  retreat  in  the 
country ;  which  I  thought,  in  that  case,  I  might  easily 
have  compassed,  as  well  as  some  others,  who  with  no 
greater  probabilities  or  pretences,  have  arrived  to  extra- 
ordinary fortune :  but  I  had  before  written  a  shrewd 
prophecy  against  myself;  and  I  think  Apollo  inspired 
me  in  the  truth,  though  not  in  the  elegance,  of  it : 

|HOU  neither  great  at  court,  nor  in  the  war. 
Nor  at  til'  exchange  shalt  be,  nor  at  the  wrang- 
linij  bar. 


^  We  have  these  verses  under  the  name  of  the    Wish,   in 
The  Mistress." 


OF  MYSELF.  123 

Content  thyself  with  the  small  barren  praise, 
Which  neglected  verse  does  raise." 
She  spake ;  and  all  n)y  years  to  come 
Took  their  unlucky  doom. 
Their  several  ways  of  life  let  others  chuse, 
Their  several  pleasures  let  them  use ; 
But  I  was  born  for  Love,  and  for  a  Muse. 

4. 
With  Fate  what  boots  it  to  contend  ? 
Such  I  began,  such  am,  and  so  must  end. 
The  star,  that  did  my  being  frame, 
Was  but  a  lambent  flame. 
And  some  small  light  it  did  dispense. 
But  neither  heat  nor  influence. 
No  matter,  Cowley;  let  proud  Fortune  see. 
That  thou  canst  her  despise  no  less  than  she  does  thee. 
Let  all  her  gifts  the  portion  be 
Of  folly,  lust,  and  flattery, 
Fraud,  extortion,  calumny. 
Murder,  infidelity, 
Bebellion  and  hypocrisy. 
Do  thou  nor  grieve  nor  blush  to  be, 
As  all  th'  inspired  tuneful  men. 
And  all  thy  great  forefathers  were,  from  Homer  down 
to  Ben.^ 

However,  by  the  failing  of  the  forces  which  I  had 
expected,  I  did  not  quit  the  design  which  I  had  resolved 
on;  I  cast  myself  into  it  a  corps  perda^  without  making 
capitulations,  or  taking  counsel  of  fortune.  But  God 
laughs  at  a  man,  who  says  to  his  soul.  Take  thy  ease  : 

■*  Pindaric  Odes.    Destinv. 


124  COWLEY'S   ESSAYS. 

I  met  presently  not  only  with  many  little  incumbrances 
and  impediments,  but  with  so  much  sickness  (a  new 
misfortune  to  me)  as  would  have  spoiled  the  happiness 
of  an  emperor  as  well  as  mine  :  yet  I  do  neither  repent, 
nor  alter  my  course.  "  Non  ego  perfidum  dixi  sacra- 
mentum;"  nothing  shall  separate  me  from  a  mistress, 
which  I  have  loved  so  long,  and  have  now  at  last 
married;  though  she  neither  has  brought  me  a  rich 
portion,  nor  lived  yet  so  quietly  with  me  as  I  hoped 
from  her : 

' — "Nee  vos,  dulcissima  mundi 

Nomina,  vos  Musse,  Libertas,  Otia,  Libri, 
Hortique  Sylvseque,  anima  remanente,  relinquam." 

Nor  by  me  e'er  shall  you, 
You,  of  all  names  the  sweetest,  and  the  best, 
You,  Muses,  books,  and  liberty,  and  rest ; 
You,  gardens,  fields,  and  woods,  forsaken  be, 
As  long  as  life  itself  forsakes  not  me. 

But  this  is  a  very  pretty  ejaculation;  because  I  have 
concluded  all  the  other  chapters  with  a  copy  of  verses, 
I  will  maintain  the  humour  to  the  last. 


'^ 


MAETIAL,  LIB.  X.  EPIGR.  XLV. 

jITAM  qu£e  faciunt  beatiorem, 
Jucundissime  Martialis,  hasc  sunt 
lies  non  parta  labore,  sed  relicta ; 
Non  ingratus  ager,  focus  perennis. 
Lis  nunquam ;  toga  rara ;  mens  quieta  ; 


OF  MYSELF.  125 

Vires  ingenuse  ;  salubre  corpus ; 
Prudens  simplicitas  ;  pares  amici ; 
Convictus  facilis  ;  sine  arte  mensa  ; 
Nox  non  ebria,  sed  soluta  curis ; 
Xon  tristis  torus,  et  tamen  pudicus ; 
Somnus,  qui  faciat  breves  tenebras  ; 
Quod  sis,  esse  velis,  nihilque  malis : 
Summum  nee  metuas  diem,  nee  optes." 

Since,  dearest  friend,  'tis  your  desire  to  see 

A  true  receipt  of  happiness^  from  me  ; 

These  are  tiie  chief  ingredients,  if  not  all : 

Take  an  estate  neither  too  great  nor  small. 

Which  quantum  sufficit  the  doctors  call. 

Let  this  estate  from  parents'  care  descend ; 

The  getting  it  too  much  of  life  does  spend. 

Take  such  a  ground,  whose  gratitude  may  be 

A  fair  encouragement  for  industry. 

Let  constant  fires  the  winter's  fury  tame; 

And  let  thy  kitchen's  be  a  vestal  flame. 

Thee  to  the  town  let  never  suit  at  law, 

And  rarely,  very  rarely,  business  draw. 

Thy  active  mind  in  equal  temper  keep, 

In  undisturbed  peace,  yet  not  in  sleep. 

Let  exercise  a  vigorous  health  maintain, 

Without  which  all  the  composition's  vain. 

In  the  same  weight  prudence  and  innocence  take, 

Ana  of  each  does  the  just  mixture  make. 

^  "  The  author,  I  suppose,"  says  Hurd,  ''  felt  his  inability  to 
express  in  our  language  the  concise  elegance  of  the  original ;  and, 
therefore,  hoped  to  supply  this  defect,  by  what  the  courtesy  of 
his  time  was  ready  to  accept,  under  the  name  of  wit  and 
humour."  In  no  instance  has  Cowley  failed  more  than  in  this. 
Instead  of  elegance  we  have  clumsiness,  instead  of  compactness, 
diffuseness. — F. 


126  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 

But  a  few  friendships  wear,  and  let  them  be 

By  nature  and  by  fortune  fit  for  thee. 

Instead  of  art  and  luxury  in  food, 

Let  mirth  and  freedom  make  thy  table  good. 

If  any  cares  into  thy  day-time  creep, 

At  night,  without  wine's  opium,  let  them  sleep. 

Let  rest,  which  nature  does  to  darkness  wed. 

And  not  lust,  recommend  to  thee  thy  bed. 

Be  satisfied,  and  pleas'd  with  what  thou  art, 

Act  chearfully  and  well  th'  allotted  part ; 

Enjoy  the  present  hour,  be  thankful  for  the  past, 

And  neither  fear,  nor  wish,  th'  approaches  of  the  last. 


MARTIAL,  LIB.   X.  EPIGR.   LXXXVIL 

[^PE  loquar  nimium  gentes  quod,  avite,  remotas, 
Miraris,  Latia  factus  in  urbe  senex ; 
Auriferumque  Tagum  sitiam,  patriiXmque  Salo- 
nem, 
Et  repetam  saturse  sordida  rura  cas^. 
Ilia  placet  tellus,  in  qua  res  parva  beatum 

Me  facit,  et  tenues  luxuriantur  opes. 
Paseitur  hic  ;  ibi  pascit  ager  :  tepet  igne  maligno 

Hic  focus,  ingenti  lumine  lucet  ibi. 
LIic  pretiosa  fames,  conturbatdrque  macellus, 

Mensa  ibi  divitiis  ruris  operta  sui. 
Quatuor  hic  testate  togse,  pluresve  teruntur ; 

Autumnis  ibi  me  quatuor  una  tegit. 
I,  cole  nunc  reges  :  quicquid  non  praestat  amicus,  ' 
Cum  prsestare  tibi  possit,  avite,  locus." 

Me,  who  have  liv'd  so  long  among  the  great, 
You  wonder  to  hear  talk  of  a  retreat : 


OF   3IYSELF.  127 

And  a  retreat  so  distant,  as  may  show 
No  thoughts  of  a  return,  when  once  I  go. 
Give  me  a  country,  how  remote  so  e'er, 
Where  happiness  a  mod'rate  rate  does  bear, 
"Where  poverty  itself  in  plenty  flows, 
And  all  the  solid  use  of  riches  knows. 
The  ground  about  the  house  maintains  it  there, 
The  house  maintains  the  ground  about  it  here. 
Here  even  hunger's  dear  ;  and  a  full  board 
Devours  the  vital  substance  of  the  lord. 
The  land  itself  does  there  the  feast  bestow. 
The  land  itself  must  here  to  market  go. 
Three  or  four  suits  one  winter  here  does  waste. 
One  suit  does  there  three  or  four  winters  last. 
Here  every  frugal  man  must  oft  be  cold, 
And  little  luke-warm  fires  are  to  you  sold. 
There  fire's  an  element,  as  cheap  and  free, 
Almost  as  any  of  the  other  three. 
Stay  you  then  here,  and  live  among  the  great, 
Attend  their  sports,  and  at  their  tables  eat. 
When  all  the  bounties  here  of  men  you  score,^ 
The  place's  bounty  there  shall  give  me  more. 


^  He  might  have  said,  of  friends,  as  his  original  does : — 

" quidquid  uon  prsestat  amicus." 

But  then  the  application  would  have  been  more  pointed  and 
satirical  than  he  wished  it  to  be.  He  therefore  drops  the  idea 
of  friends,  and  delicately  substitutes  men. 


,28  COWLEY'S    ESSAYS. 


EPITAPHIUM  YIVI  AUCTORIS. 

jIC,  0  viator,  sub  lare  parvulo 

Couleius  hie  est  conditus,  hie  jacet 
Defunctus  hiimani  laboris 
Sorte,  supervaciiaque  vita. 

Non  indecora  pauperie  nitens, 
Et  non  inerti  nobilis  otio, 
Vanoque  dilectis  popello 
Divitiis  animosus  hostis. 

Possis  ut  ilium  dicere  mortuum  ; 
En  terra  jam  nunc  quantula  sufficit ! 
Exempta  sit  curis,  viator, 
Terra  sit  ilia  levis,  precare. 

Hie  sparge  flores,  sparge  breves  rosas, 
Nam  vita  gaudet  mortua  floribus,'' 
Herbisque  odoratis  corona 

Vatis  adhue  eiuerem  calentem." 


'  The  application  is  the  juster  and  prettiei-,  because  of  the 
poet's  singular  passion  for  gardens  and  flowers  (on  which  sub- 
ject he  had  written  a  Latin  poem  in  six  books) ;  and  then  ac- 
cording to  the  poetical  creed, — 

vivo  qu£B  cura — 

— eadera  sequitur  tellure  repostum. 

ViKG.  ^n.  vi.  564. 


OF  MYSELF.  129 


EPITAPH   OX   THE   LIYIXG   AUTHOPt. 

1. 
|ERE,  stranger,  in  this  humble  nest, 
Here,  Cowley  sleeps ;  here  lies, 
Scap'd  ail  the  toils,  that  life  molest. 
And  its  superfluous  joys. 


Here,  in  no  sordid  poverty, 

And  no  inglorious  ease, 
He  braves  the  world,  and  can  defy 

Its  frowns  and  flatteries. 


The  little  earth,  he  asks,  survey : 

Is  he  not  dead,  indeed  ? 
"  Light  lye  that  earth,"  good  stranger,  pray 

"  Xor  thorn  upon  it  breed ! " 

4. 
With  flow'rs,  fit  emblem  of  his  fame. 

Compass  your  poet  round  ; 
"With  flow'rs  of  ev'ry  fragrant  name 

Be  his  warm  ashes  crown'd ! 


ON    THE    GOVERNMENT 


A  DISCOURSE,  BY   WAY  OF  VISION,   CON- 
CERNING   THE    GOVERNMENT 
OF   OLIVER   CROMWELL.^ 

|T  was  the  funeral  day  of  the  late  man  who 
made  himself  to  be  called  protector.  And 
though  I  bore  but  little  affection,  either  to 
the  memory  of  him,  or  to  the  trouble  and 
folly  of  all  public  pageantry,  yet  I  was  forced,  by  the 
importunity  of  my  company,  to  go  along  with  them,  and 
be  a  spectator  of  that  solemnity,  the  expectation  of 
which  had  been  so  great,  that  it  was  said  to  have 
brought  some  very  curious  persons  (and  no  doubt  sin- 
gular virtuosos)  as  far  as  from  the  Mount  in  Cornwall, 
and  from  the  Orcades.  I  found  there  had  been  much 
more  cost  bestowed  than  either  the  dead  man,  or  indeed 
death  itself,  could  deserve.  There  was  a  mighty  train 
of  black  assistants,  among  which,  too,  divers  princes  in 
the  persons  of  their  ambassadors  (being  infinitely  afflic- 
ted jfor  the  loss  of  their  brother)  were  pleased  to  attend ; 
the  hearse  was  magnificent,  the  idol  crowned,  and  (not 

'  This  is  the  best  of  our  author's  prose  works.  The  subject 
which  he  had  much  at  heart,  raised  his  genius.  There  is  some- 
thing very  noble,  and  ahnost  poetical,  in  the  plan  of  this  vision; 
and  a  warm  vein  of  eloquence  runs  quite  through  it. 


OF    OLIVER    CROMWELL.  131 

to  mention  all  other  ceremonies  which  are  practised  at 
rojal  interments,  and  therefore  bj  no  means  could  be 
omitted  here)  the  vast  multitude  of  spectators  made  up, 
as  it  uses  to  do,  no  small  part  of  the  spectacle  itself. 
But  yet,  I  know  not  how,  the  whole  was  so  managed, 
that,  methought,  it  somewhat  represented  the  life  of  him 
for  whom  it  was  made  ;  much  noise,  much  tumult,  much 
expense,  much  magnificence,  much  vain-glorj;  briefly 
a  great  show ;  and  yet,  after  all  this,  but  an  ill  sight. 
At  last  (for  it  seemed  long  to  me,  and,  liice  his  short 
reign  too,  very  tedious)  the  whole  scene  passed  by;  and 
I  retired  back  to  my  chamber,  weary,  and  I  think  more 
melancholy  than  any  of  the  mourners ;  where  I  began 
to  reflect  on  the  whole  life  of  this  prodigious  man  :  and 
sometimes  I  was  filled  with  horror  and  detestation  of 
his  actions,  and  sometimes  I  inclined  a  little  to  reverence 
and  admiration  of  his  courage,  conduct,  and  success ;  till, 
by  these  ditferent  motions  and  agitations  of  mind,  rocked, 
as  it  were,  asleep,  I  fell  at  last  into  this  vision ;  or  if  you 
please  to  call  it  but  a  dream,  I  shall  not  take  it  ill,  be- 
cause the  father  of  poets  tells  us,  even  dreams,  too,  are 
from  God. 

But  sure  it  was  no  dream ;  for  I  was  suddenly  trans- 
ported afar  off  (whether  in  the  body,  or  out  of  the  body, 
like  St.  Paul,'~  I  know  not)  and  found  myself  on  the 
top  of  that  famous  hill  in  the  island  Mona,  which  has 
the  prospect  of  three  great,  and  not-long-since  most 
happy,  kingdoms.  As  soon  as  ever  I  looked  on  them, 
the  not-loiig- since  struck  upon  my  memory,  and  called 
forth  the  sad  representation  of  all  the  sins,  and  all  the 
miseries,  that  had  overwhelmed  them  these  twenty  years. 

*  Very  injudicious,  on  such  an  occasion,  to  use  the  language 
of  St.  Paul,  says  Bishop  Hurd. 


132  ON    THE    G0VERN3IENT 

And  I  wept  bitterly  for  two  or  three  hours ;  and,  when 
my  present  stock  of  moisture  was  all  wasted,  I  fell  a 
sighing  for  an  hour  more ;  and,  as  soon  as  I  recovered 
from  my  passion  the  use  of  speech  and  reason,  I  broke 
forth,  as  I  remember  (looking  upon  England),  into  this 
complaint : 

1. 
^^^^H,  happy  isle,  how  art  thou  chang'd  and  curst, 
i^\         Since  I  was  born,  and  knew  thee  first ! 
Arkryfi  "\Ylien  peace,  which  had  forsook  the  world  around, 
(Frighted  with  noise,  and  the  shrill  trumpet's  sound) 
Thee,  for  a  private  place  of  rest, 
And  a  secure  retirement,  chose 
AVherein  to  build  her  halcyon  nest ; 
No  wind  durst  stii'  abroad,  the  air  to  discompose. 

2. 

When  all  the  riches  of  the  globe  beside 

Flow'd  in  to  thee  with  every  tide  : 
When  all,  that  nature  did  thy  soil  deny, 
The  growth  was  of  thy  fruitful  industry  ; 

When  all  the  proud  and  dreadful  sea 

And  all  his  tributary  streams, 

A  constant  tribute  paid  to  thee. 
When  all  the  liquid  world  was  one  extended  Thames ; 

3. 

When  plenty  in  each  village  did  appear, 

And  bounty  was  it's  steward  there ; 
When  gold  walk'd  free  about  in  open  view. 
Ere  it  one  conquering  party's  prisoner  grew ; 

When  the  religion  of  our  state 

Had  face  and  substance  with  her  voice, 

Ere  she,  by  her  foolish  loves  of  late. 
Like  echo  (once  a  nymph)  turn'd  only  into  noise. 


OF   OLIVER    CROMWELL.  133 

4. 
When  men  to  men  respect  and  friendship  bore, 

And  God  with  reverence  did  adore ; 
When  upon  earth  no  kingdom  could  have  shown 
A  happier  monarch  to  us,  than  our  own  ; 

And  yet  his  subjects  by  him  were 

(Which  is  a  truth  will  hardly  be 

Receiv'd  by  any  vulgar  ear, 
A  secret  known  to  few)  made  happier  ev'n  than  he. 

5. 

Thou  dost  a  chaos,  and  confusion  now, 

A  Babel,  and  a  Bedlam,  grow. 
And,  like  a  frantic  person,  thou  dost  tear 
The  ornaments  and  cloaths,  which  thou  should'st  wear, 

And  cut  thy  limbs  ;  and,  if  we  see 

(Just  as  thy  barbarous  Britons  did) 

Thy  body  with  hypocrisy 
Painted  all  o'er,  thou  think'st,  thy  naked  shame  is  hid. 

6. 
The  nations,  which  envied  thee  erewhile, 

Now  laugh  (too  little  'tis  to  smile)  : 
They  laugh,  and  would  have  pitied  thee  (alas !) 
But  that  thy  faults  all  pity  do  surpass. 

Art  thou  the  country,  which  didst  hate 

And  mock  the  French  inconstancy  ? 

And  have  we,  have  we  seen  of  late 
Less  change  of  habits  there,  than  governments  in  thee  ? 

7. 
Unhappy  Isle  !  no  ship  of  thine  at  sea, 
Was  ever  tost  and  torn  like  thee. 
Thy  naked  hulk  loose  on  the  waves  does  beat. 
The  rocks  and  banks  around  her  ruin  threat ; 


134  ON    THE    GOVERNMENT 

What  did  thy  foolish  pilots  ail, 
To  lay  the  compass  quite  aside  ? 
"Without  a  law  or  rule  to  sail, 
And  rather  take  the  winds,  than  heavens,  to  be  their 
guide  ? 

8. 

Yet,  mighty  God,  yet,  yet,  we  humbly  crave, 

This  floating  isle  from  shipwreck  save ; 
And  though,  to  wash  that  blood  which  does  it  stain, 
It  well  deserve  to  sink  into  the  main  ; 

Yet,  for  the  royal  martyr's  prayer, 

(The  royal  martyr  prays,  we  know) 

This  guilty,  perishing  vessel  spare  ; 
Hear  but  his  soul  above,  and  not  his  blood  below. 

I  think,  I  should  have  gone  on,  but  that  I  was  in- 
terrupted by  a  strange  and  terrible  apparition ;  for 
there  appeared  to  me  (arising  out  of  the  earth,^  as  I 
conceived)  the  figure  of  a  man,  taller  than  a  giant,  or 
indeed  the  shadow  of  any  giant  in  the  evening.  His 
body  was  naked ;  but  that  nakedness  adorned,  or  rather 
deformed  all  over,  with  several  figures,  after  the  manner 
of  the  antient  Britons,  painted  upon  it :  and  I  perceived 
that  most  of  them  were  the  representation  of  the  late 
battles  in  our  civil  wars,  and  (if  I  be  not  much  mis- 
taken) it  was  the  battle  of  Naseby  that  was  drawn  upon 
his  breast.  His  eyes  were  like  burning  brass ;  and  there 
were  three  crowns  of  the  same  metal  (as  I  guessed), 
and  that  looked  as  red-hot  too,  upon  his  head."*     He 


^  i.  e.,  from  a  low  and  plebeian  original. 
''  The  idea   of   this  gigantic    figure   seems  taken   from  the 
frontispiece  to  Hobbes's  "Leviathan." 


OF    OLIVER    CROMJFELL.  135 

held  in  his  right  hand  a  sword,  that  was  yet  bloody,  and 
nevertheless  the  motto  of  it  was.  Pax  qucBritur  hello ; 
and  in  his  left  hand  a  thick  book,  upon  the  back  of 
which  was  written  in  letters  of  gold,  Acts,  Ordinances, 
Protestations,  Covenants,  Engagements,  Declarations, 
Remonstrances,  &c. 

Though  this  sudden,  unusual,  and  dreadful  object 
might  have  quelled  a  greater  courage  than  mine,  yet  so 
it  pleased  God  (for  there  is  nothing  bolder  than  a  man 
in  a  vision)  that  I  was  not  at  all  daunted,  but  asked 
him  resolutely  and  briefly,  "  What  art  thou  ?"  And  he 
said,  "  I  am  called  the  north-west  principality,  his  high- 
ness, the  protector  of  the  commonwealth  of  England, 
Scotland,  and  Ireland,  and  the  dominions  belonging 
thereunto ;  for  1  am  that  angel,  to  whom  the  Almighty 
has  committed  the  government  of  those  three  kingdoms, 
which  thou  seest  from  this  place."  And  I  answered 
and  said,  "  If  it  be  so.  Sir,  it  seems  to  me  that  for  al- 
most these  twenty  years  past,  your  highness  has  been 
absent  from  your  charge :  for  not  only  if  any  angel,  but 
if  any  wise  and  honest  man  had  since  that  time  been 
our  governor,  we  should  not  have  wandered  thus  long 
in  these  laborious  and  endless  labyrinths  of  confusion, 
but  either  not  have  entered  at  all  into  them,  or  at  least 
have  returned  back  ere  we  had  absolutely  lost  our  way ; 
but,  instead  of  your  highness,  we  have  had  since  such 
a  protector,  as  was  his  predecessor  Richard  the  Third 
to  the  king  his  nephew ;  for  he  presently  slew  the  com- 
monwealth, which  he  pretended  to  protect,  and  set  up 
himself  in  the  place  of  it :  a  little  less  guilty,  indeed,  in 
one  respect,  because  the  other  slew  an  innocent,  and 
this  man  did  but  murder  a  murderer.^     Such  a  pro- 

■^   Meaniiic;  the  Commonwealth. 


136  ox    THE    GOVERNMENT 

tector  we  have  had,  as  we  would  have  been  glad  to  have 
changed  for  an  enemy,  and  rather  received  a  constant 
Turk,  than  this  every  month's  apostate ;  such  a  pro- 
tector, as  man  is  to  his  flocks,  which  he  sheers,  and  sells, 
or  devours  himself;  and  I  would  fain  know,  what  the 
wolf,  which  he  protects  him  from,  could  do  more  ? 
Such  a  protector — "  and  as  I  was  proceeding,  me- 
thought,  his  highness  began  to  put  on  a  displeased  and 
threatening  countenance,  as  men  use  to  do  when  their 
dearest  friends  happen  to  be  traduced  in  their  company ; 
which  gave  me  the  first  rise  of  jealousy  against  him,  for 
I  did  not  believe  that  Cromwell,  among  all  his  foreign 
correspondences,  had  ever  held  any  with  angels.  How- 
ever, I  was  not  hardened  enough  to  venture  a  quarrel 
with  him  then  ;  and  therefore  (as  if  I  had  spoken  to  the 
protector  himself  in  AVhitehall)  I  desired  him  "  that 
his  highness  would  please  to  pardon  me,  if  I  had  un- 
wittingly spoken  any  thing  to  the  disparagement  of  a 
person,  whose  relations  to  his  highness  I  had  not  the 
honour  to  know." 

At  which  he  told  me,  "  that  he  had  no  other  concern- 
ment for  his  late  highness,  than  as  he  took  him  to  be  the 
greatest  man  that  ever  was  of  the  English  nation,  if  not 
(said  he)  of  the  whole  world ;  which  gives  me  a  just 
title  to  the  defence  of  his  reputation,  since  I  now  account 
myself,  as  it  were,  a  naturalized  English  angel,  by  having 
had  so  long  the  management  of  the  affairs  of  that  coun- 
trey.  And  pray,  countreyman  (said  he,  very  kindly  and 
very  flatteringly)  for  I  would  not  have  you  fall  into  the 
general  error  of  the  world,  that  detests  and  decries  so 
extraordinary  a  virtue,  what  can  be  more  extraordinary, 
than  that  a  person  of  mean  birth,  no  fortune,  no  eminent 
qualities  of  body,  which  have  sometimes,  or  of  mind, 
which  have  often,  raised  men  to  the  highest  dignities, 


OF    OLIVER    CROMWELL.  137 

should  have  the  courage  to  attempt,  and  the  happiness 
to  succeed  in,  so  improbable  a  design,  as  the  destruction 
of  one  of  the  most  antient  and  most  solidly  founded 
monarchies  upon  the  earth  ?  that  he  should  have  the 
power  or  boldness  to  put  his  prince  and  master  to  an 
open  and  infamous  death ;  to  banish  that  numerous  and 
strongly-allied  family  ;  to  do  all  this  under  the  name  and 
wages  of  a  parliament ;  to  trample  upon  them  too  as  he 
pleased,  and  spurn  them  out  of  doors,  when  he  grew 
weary  of  them ;  to  raise  up  a  new  and  unheard  of  mon- 
ster out  of  theii'  ashes  ;  to  stifle  that  in  the  very  infancy, 
and  set  up  himself  above  all  things  that  ever  were 
called  sovereign  in  England  ;  to  oppress  all  his  enemies  by 
arms,  and  all  his  friends  afterwards  by  artifice ;  to  serve 
all  parties  patiently  for  awhile,  and  to  command  them 
victoriously  at  last ;  to  over-run  each  corner  of  the  three 
nations,  and  overcome  with  equal  facility  both  the  riches 
of  the  south,  and  the  poverty  of  the  north  ;  to  be  feared 
and  courted  by  all  foreign  princes,  and  adopted  a  brother 
to  the  gods  of  the  earth ;  to  call  together  parliaments 
with  a  word  of  his  pen,  and  scatter  them  again  with  the 
breath  of  his  mouth  ;  to  be  humbly  and  daily  petitioned 
that  he  would  please  to  be  hired,  at  the  rate  of  two  mil- 
lions a  year,  to  be  the  master  of  those  who  had  hired 
him  before  to  be  their  servant ;  to  have  the  estates  and 
lives  of  three  kingdoms  as  much  at  his  disposal,  as  was 
the  little  inheritance  of  his  father,  and  to  be  as  noble  and 
liberal  in  the  spending  of  them  ;  and  lastly  (for  there  is 
no  end  of  all  the  particulars  of  his  glory)  to  bequeath  all 
this  with  one  word  to  his  posterity  ;  to  die  with  peace  at 
home,  and  triumph  abroad ;  to  be  buried  among  kings, 
and  with  more  than  regal  solemnity ;  and  to  leave  a 
name  behind  him,  not  to  be  extinguished  but  with  the 
whole   world ;  which,  as   it   is   now   too   little   for    his 


138  ON    THE    GOVERNMENT 

praises,  so  miglit  have  been  too  for  his  conquests,  if  the 
short  line  of  his  human  life  could  have  been  stretched  out 
to  the  extent  of  his  immortal  designs  ?  ""^ 

By  this  speech,  I  began  to  understand  perfectly  well 
what  kind  of  angel  his  pretended  highness  was;  and 
having  fortified  myself  privately  with  a  short  mental 
prayer,  and  with  the  sign  of  the  cross  (not  out  of  any  super- 
stition to  the  sign,  but  as  a  recognition  of  my  baptism  in 
Christ,)'  I  grew  a  little  bolder,  and  replied  in  this  man- 
ner ;  "  I  should  not  venture  to  oppose  what  you  are 
pleased  to  say  in  commendation  of  the  late  great,  and  (I 
confess)  extraordinary  person,  but  that  I  remember 
Christ  forbids  us  to  give  assent  to  any  other  doctrine 
but  what  himself  has  taught  us,  even  though  it  should  be 
delivered  by  an  angel ;  and  if  such  you  be.  Sir,  it  may 
be  you  have  spoken  all  this  rather  to  try  than  to  tempt 
my  frailty,  for  sure  I  am,  that  we  must  renounce  or  for- 
get all  the  laws  of  the  New  and  Old  Testament,  and 
those  which  are  the  foundation  of  both,  even  the  laws  of 
moral  and  natural  honesty,  if  we  approve  of  the  actions 
of  that  man  whom  I  suppose  you  commend  by  irony. 

"  There  would  be  no  end  to  instance  in  the  particulars 
of  all  his  wickedness :  but  to  sum  up  a  part  of  it  briefly: 
What  can  be  more  extraordinarily  wicked,  than  for  a 
person,  such  as  yourself  qualify  him  rightly,  to  endeavour 
not  only  to  exalt  himself  above,  but  to  trample  upon, 
all  his  equals  and  betters  ?  to  pretend  freedom  for  all 
men,  and  under  the  help  of  that  pretence  to  make  all 
men  his  servants  ?  to  take  arms  against  taxes  of  scarce 

^  Mr.  Hume  has  inserted  this  character  of  Cromwell,  but 
altered^  as  he  says,  in  some,  particulars,  from  the  original,  in  his 
"  History  of  Great  Britain." 

'  In  virtue  of  Avhich,  he  was  bound  to  fight  against  sin,  the 
world,  and  the  devil. 


OF    OLIVER    CROMWELL.  139 

two  hundred  thousand  pounds  a  year,  and  to  raise  them 
himself  to  above  two  millions  ?  to  quarrel  for  the  loss  of 
three  or  four  ears,  and  strike  ofi'  three  or  four  hundred 
heads  ?  to  fight  against  an  imaginary  suspicion  of  I  know- 
not  what  two  thousand  guards  to  be  fetched  for  the  king, 
I  know  not  from  whence,  and  to  keep  up  for  himself  no  less 
than  forty  thousand  ?  to  pretend  the  defence  of  parlia- 
ments, and  violently  to  dissolve  all  even  of  his  own  call- 
ing, and  almost  choosing  ?  to  undertake  the  reformation 
of  religion,  to  rob  it  even  to  the  very  skin,  and  then  to 
expose  it  naked  to  the  rage  of  all  sects  and  heresies  ?  to 
set  up  counsels  of  rapine,  and  courts  of  murder  ?  to  fight 
against  the  king  under  a  commission  for  him ;  to  take 
him  forcibly  out  of  the  hands  of  those  for  whom  he  had 
conquered  him  ;  to  draw  him  into  his  net,  with  protesta- 
tions and  vows  of  fidelity  ;  and  when  he  had  caught  him 
in  it,  to  butcher  him,  with  as  little  shame  as  conscience  or 
humanity,  in  the  open  face  of  the  whole  world  ?  to  re- 
ceive a  commission  for  the  king  and  parliament,  to  mur- 
der (as  I  said)  the  one,  and  destroy  no  less  impudently 
the  other  ?  to  fight  against  monarchy  when  he  declared 
for  it,  and  declare  against  it  when  he  contrived  for  it  in 
his  own  person  ?  to  abuse  perfidiously  and  supplant  in- 
gratefully  his  own  generaP  first,  and  afterwards  most  of 
those  ofiicers,  who,  with  the  loss  of  their  honour,  and  hazard 
of  their  souls,  had  lifted  him  up  to  the  top  of  his  un- 
reasonable ambitions  ?  to  break  his  faith  with  all  enemies 
and  with  all  friends  equally  ?  and  to  make  no  less  fre- 
quent use  of  the  most  solemn  perjuries,  than  the  looser 
sort  of  people  do  of  customary  oaths  ?  to  usurp  three 
kingdoms  without  any  shadow  of  the  least  pretensions, 
and  to  govern  them  as  unjustly  as  he  got  them  ?  to  set 

^  Sir  T.  Fairfax. 


I40  Oy    THE     GOVERXMEXT 

himself  up  as  an  idol  (which  we  know,  as  St.  Paul 
says,  in  itself  is  nothing),  and  make  the  very  streets 
of  London  like  the  valley  of  Hinnon,  by  burning  the 
bowels  of  men  as  a  sacrifice  to  his  molochship  ?^  to  seek 
to  entail  this  usurpation  upon  his  posterity,  and  with  it 
an  endless  war  upon  the  nation  ?  and  lastly,  by  the 
severest  judgment  of  Almighty  God,  to  die  hardened, 
and  mad,  and  unrepentant,  with  the  curses  of  the  pre- 
sent age,  and  the  detestation  of  all  to  succeed  ?" 

Though  I  had  much  more  to  say  (for  the  life  of  man 
is  so  short,  that  it  allows  not  time  enough  to  speak 
against  a  tyrant)  ;  yet  because  I  had  a  mind  to  hear  how 
my  strange  adversary  would  behave  himself  upon  this  sub- 
ject, and  to  give  even  the  devil  (as  they  say)  his  right, 
and  fair  play  in  a  disputation,  I  stopped  here,  and  ex- 
pected (not  without  the  frailty  of  a  little  fear)  that  he 
should  have  broke  into  a  violent  passion  in  behalf  of  his 
favourite  :  but  he  on  the  contrary  very  calmly,  and  with 
the  dove-like  innocency  of  a  serpent  that  was  not  yet 
warmed  enough  to  sting,  thus  replied  to  me  : 

"  It  is  not  so  much  out  of  my  affection  to  that  person 
whom  we  discourse  of  (whose  greatness  is  too  solid  to 
be  shaken  by  the  breath  of  any  oratory),  as  for  your  own 
sake  (honest  countreyman,)  whom  I  conceive  to  err 
rather  by  mistake  than  out  of  malice,  that  I  shall  en- 
deavour to  reform  your  uncharitable  and  unjust  opinion. 
And,  in  the  first  place,  I  must  needs  put  you  in  mind  of 

^  Cowley  only  meaus,  that  some  persons  suffered  the  custo- 
mary death  of  traitors,  under  the  protector's  government.  But 
why  then  this  tragrical  outcry  on  I  know  not  what  sacrifice  to 
Moloch.'  Cromwell  was  a  tyrant,  that  is,  rooai'voQ,  no  doubt, 
but  surely  not  a  cruel  nor  sanguinary  tyrant.  In  this,  and 
some  other  instances,  the  author's  resentment  gets  the  better  of 
his  discretion. 


OF    OLIVER    CROMWELL.  141 

a  sentence  of  the  most  antient  of  the  heathen  divines, 
that  you  men  are  acquainted  withal, 

Oh  X   oaiov  K-afikvoKriv  Itt'  dvSpdaiv  ei'x^TaaoOai' 

'Tis  wicked  with  insulting  feet  to  tread 
Upon  the  monuments  of  the  dead. 

And  the  intention  of  the  reproof  there,  is  no  less  proper 
for  this  subject ;  for  it  is  spoken  to  a  person  who  was 
proud  and  insolent  against  those  dead  men.  to  whom  he 
had  been  humble  and  obedient  whilst  they  lived." 

"  Your  highness  may  please  (said  I)  to  add  the  verse 
that  follows,  as  no  less  proper  for  this  subject : 

Whom  God's  just  doom  and  their  own  sins  have  sent 
Akeady  to  their  punishment. 

"  But  I  take  this  to  be  the  rule  in  the  case,  that,  when 
we  fix  any  infamy  upon  deceased  persons,  it  should  not 
be  done  out  of  hatred  to  the  dead,  but  out  of  love  and 
charity  to  the  living  :  that  the  curses,  which  only  remain 
in  men's  thoughts,  and  dare  not  come  forth  against 
tyrants  (because  they  are  tyrants)  whilst  they  are  so, 
may  at  least  be  for  ever  settled  and  engraven  upon  their 
memories,  to  deter  all  others  from  the  like  wickedness  ; 
which  else,  in  the  time  of  their  foolish  prosperity,  the 
flattery  of  their  own  hearts  and  of  other  men's  tongues 
would  not  suffer  them  to  perceive.  Ambition  is  so 
subtle  a  tempter,  and  the  corruption  of  human  nature 
so  susceptible  of  the  temptation  that  a  man  can 
hardly  resist  it,  be  he  never  so  much  forewarned  of 
the  evil  consequences;  much  less  if  he  find  not  only 
the  concurrence  of  the  present,  but  the  approbation 
too  of  following  ages,  which  have  the  liberty  to 
judge  more  freely.  The  mischief  of  tyranny  is  too 
great,  even  in  the  shortest  time  that  it  can  con- 
tinue ;  it  is  endless  and  insupportable,  if  the  example  be 


142  ON    THE    GOVERNMENT 

to  reign  too,  and  if  a  Lambert  must  be  invited  to  follow 
the  steps  of  a  Cromwell,  as  well  by  the  voice  of  honour, 
as  by  the  sight  of  power  and  riches.  Though  it  may 
seem  to  some  fantastically,  yet  was  it  wisely  done  of  the 
Syracusans,  to  implead  with  the  forms  of  their  ordinary 
justice,  to  condemn  and  destroy  even  the  statues  of  all 
their  tyrants  :  if  it  were  possible  to  cut  them  out  of  all 
history,  and  to  extinguish  their  very  names,  I  am  of 
opinion  that  it  ought  to  be  done  ;  but,  since  they  have 
left  behind  them  too  deep  wounds  to  be  ever  closed  up 
without  a  scar,  at  least  let  us  set  such  a  mark  upon  their 
memory,  that  men  of  the  same  wicked  inclinations  may 
be  no  less  affrighted  with  their  lasting  ignominy,  than 
enticed  by  their  momentary  glories.  And  that  your 
highness  may  perceive,  that  I  speak  not  all  this  out  of 
any  private  animosity  against  the  person  of  the  late  pro- 
tector, I  assure  you,  upon  my  faith,  that  I  bear  no  more 
hatred  to  his  name,  than  I  do  to  that  of  Marius  or  Sylla, 
who  never  did  me,  or  any  friend  of  mine,  the  least 
injury;  and  with  that,  transported  by  a  holy  fury,  I 
fell  into  this  sudden  rapture  :         ~ 

1. 

[URST  be  the  man  (what  do  I  wish  ?  as  though 
The  wretch  already  were  not  so ; 
But  curst  on  let  him  be)  who  thinks  it  brave 
And  great,  his  countrey^"  to  enslave, 
Who  seeks  to  overpoise  alone 
The  balance  of  a  nation, 

*"  This  word,  iu  the  sense  of  patria,  or  as  including  in  it  the 
idea  of  a  civil  constitution,  is  always  spelt  by  Mr.  Cowley,  I 
observe,  with  an  e  before  y, — conntrev; — in  the  sense  of  nis, 
without  an  e — country ; — and  this  distinction,  for  the  sake  of 
perspicuity,  may  be  worth  preserving. — HuRD. 


OF  OLIVER    CROMWELL.  143 

Against  the  -whole  but  naked  state, 
Who  in  his  own  light  scale  makes  up  with  arms  the 
weight. 


"Who  of  his  nation  loves  to  be  the  first, 
Though  at  the  rate  of  being  worst. 

"Who  would  be  rather  a  great  monster,^than 
A  well-proportion'd  man. 
The  son  of  earth  with  hundred  hands 
Upon  his  three-pil'd  mountain  stands. 
Till  thunder  strikes  him  from  the  skj  ; 

The  son  of  earth  again  in  his  earth's  womb  does  lie. 

3. 

"What  blood,  confusion,  ruin,  to  obtain 
A  short  and  miserable  reign  ! 

In  what  oblique  and  humble  creeping  wise 
Does  the  mischievous  serpent  rise  ! 
But  even  his  forked  tongue  strikes  dead : 
When  he's  rear'd  up  his  wicked  head. 
He  murders  with  his  mortal  frown  ; 

A  basilisk  he  grows,  if  once  he  get  a  crown. 


But  no  guards  can  oppose  assaulting  fears, 

Or  undermining  tears, 
Xo  more  than  doors  or  close-drawn  curtains  keep 

The  swarming  dreams  out,  when  we  sleep. 

That  bloodv  conscience,  too,  of  his 

(For,  oh,  a  rebel  red-coat  'tis) 

Does  here  his  early  hell  begin, 
He  sees  his  slaves  without,  his  tvrant  feels  within. 


144  ^^^   ^^^    GOVERNMENT 

5. 
Let,  gracious  God,  let  never  more  thine  hand 

Lift  up  this  rod  against  our  land. 
A  tyrant  is  a  rod  and  serpent  too, 

And  brings  worse  plagues  than  Egypt  knew. 

What  rivers  stain'd  with  blood  have  been ! 

What  storm  and  hail-shot  have  we  seen  ! 

What  sores  deform'd  the  ulcerous  state ! 
What  darkness,  to  be  felt,  has  buried  us  of  late ! 

6. 
How  has  it  snatch'd  our  flocks  and  herds  away  ! 

And  made  even  of  our  sons  a  prey  ! 
What  croaking  sects  and  vermin  has  it  sent, 

The  restless  nation  to  torment ! 

What  greedy  troops,  what  armed  power 

Of  flies  and  locusts,  to  devour 

The  land,  which  every  where  they  fill ! 
Nor  fly  they,  Lord,  away  ;  no,  they  devour  it  still. 

7. 

Come  the  eleventh  plague,  rather  than  this  should  be  ; 

Come  sink  us  rather  in  the  sea. 
Come,  rather,  pestilence,  and  reap  us  down ;       ^ 

Come  God's  sword  rather  than  our  own, 

Let  rather  Roman  come  again. 

Or  Saxon,  Xorman,  or  the  Dane : 

In  all  the  bonds  we  ever  bore. 
We  griev'd,  we  sigh'd,  we  wept;  we  never  blush'd  before. 

8. 
If  by  our  sins  the  divine  justice  be 

Call'd  to  this  last  extremity. 
Let  some  denouncing  Jonas  first  be  sent, 

To  try,  if  England  can  repent. 


OF    OLIVER    CROMIVELL.  145 

jNIethinks,  .at  least,  some  prodinry, 
Some  dreadful  comet  from  on  liiirli, 
Should  terribly  forewarn  the  earth, 
As  of  good  princes'  deaths,  so  of  a  tyrant's  Vnrth." 

Here,  the  spirit  of  verse  beginning  a  little  to  fail,  I 
stopt :  and  his  highness,  smiling,  said,  "  I  was  glad  to 
see  you  engaged  in  the  enclosure  of  metre  ;  for,  if 
you  had  staid  in  the  open  plain  of  declaiming  against 
the  word  Tyrant,  I  must  have  had  patience  for  half  a 
dozen  hours,  till  you  had  tired  yourself  as  well  as  me. 
But  pray,  countreyman,  to  avoid  this  sciomachy,  or 
imaginary  combat  with  words,  let  me  know.  Sir,  what 
you  mean  by  the  name  tyrant,  for  I  remember  that, 
among  your  antient  authors,  not  only  all  kings,  but  even 
Jupiter  himself  (your  juvans  pater)  is  so  termed ;  and 
perhaps,  as  it  was  used  formerly  in  a  good  sense,  so  we 
shall  find  it,  upon  better  consideration,  to  be  still  a  good 
thing  for  the  benefit  and  peace  of  mankind ;  at  least,  it 
will  appear  whether  your  interpretation  of  it  may  be 
justly  applied  to  the  person,  who  is  now  the  subject  of 
our  discourse." 

"I  call  him  (said  I)  a  tyrant,  who  either  intrudes 
himself  forcibly  into  the  government  of  his  fellow  citizens 
without  any  legal  authority  over  them;  or  who,  having 
a  just  title  to  the  government  of  a  people,  abuses  it  to 
the  destruction,  or  tormenting,  of  them.  So  that  all 
tyrants  are  at  the  same  time  usurpers,  either  of  the  whole, 
or  at  least  of  a  part,  of  that  power  which  they  assume 
to  themselves :  and  no  less  are  they  to  be  accounted 
rebels,  since  no  man  can  usurp  authority  over  others, 
but  by  rebelling  against  them  who  had  it  before^  or  at 
least  against  those  laws  which  were  his  superiors  :  and 
in  all   these  senses,  no  history  can   afford  us  a  more 

L 


146  ON    THE    GOVERNMENT 

evident  example  of  tyranny,  or  more  out  of  all  possi- 
bility of  excuse,  or  palliation,  than  that  of  the  person 
•whom  you  are  pleased  to  defend ;  whether  we  consider 
his  reiterated  rebellions  against  all  his  superiors,  or  his 
usurpation  of  the  supreme  power  to  himself,  or  his 
tyranny  in  the  exercise  of  it :  and,  if  lawful  princes 
have  been  esteemed  tyrants,  by  not  containing  them- 
selves within  the  bounds  of  those  laws  which  have  been 
left  them,  as  the  sphere  of  their  authority,  by  their 
forefathers,  what  shall  we  say  of  that  man,  who,  having 
by  right  no  power  at  all  in  this  nation,  could  not  content 
himself  with  that  which  had  satisfied  the  most  ambitious 
of  our  princes  ?  nay,  not  with  those  vastly  extended 
limits  of  sovereignty,  which  he  (disdaining  all  that  had 
been  prescribed  and  observed  before)  was  pleased  (out 
of  great  modesty)  to  set  to  himself;  not  abstaining  from 
i-ebellion  and  usurpation  even  against  his  own  laws,  as 
well  as  those  of  the  nation  ?" 

"  Hold,  friend,  (said  his  highness,  pulling  me  by  my 
arm)  for  I  see  your  zeal  is  transporting  you  again  ; 
whether  the  protector  were  a  tyrant  in  the  exorbitant 
exercise  of  his  power,  we  shall  see  anon ;  it  is  requisite 
to  examine,  first,  whether  he  were  so  in  the  usurpation 
of  it.  And  I  say,  that  not  only  he,  but  no  man  else, 
ever  was,  or  can  be  so;  and  that  for  these  reasons. 
First,  because  all  power  belongs  only  to  God,  who  is 
the  source  and  fountain  of  it,  as  kings  are  of  all  honours 
in  their  dominions.  Princes  are  but  his  viceroys  in  the 
little  provinces  of  this  world ;  and  to  some  he  gives 
their  places  for  a  few  years,  to  some  for  their  lives,  and 
to  others  (upon  ends  or  deserts  best  known  to  himself,  or 
merely  for  his  un disputable  good  pleasure)  he  bestows, 
as  it  were,  leases  upon  them,  and  their  posterity,  for  such  a 
date  of  time  as  is  prefixed  in  that  patent  of  their  destiny, 


OF    OLIVER    CROMWELL.  147 

which  is  not  legible  to  you  men  below.  Neither  is  it 
more  unlawful  lor  Oliver  to  succeed  Charles  in  the 
kingdom  of  England,  when  God  so  disposes  of  it,  than 
it  had  been  for  him  to  have  succeeded  the  Lord  Strafibni 
in  his  lieutenancy  of  L'eland,  if  he  had  been  appointed 
to  it  by  the  king  then  reigning.  Men  are  in  both  the 
cases  obliged  to  obey  him,  whom  they  see  actually  in- 
vested with  the  authority  by  that  sovereign  from  whom 
he  ought  to  derive  it,  without  disputing  or  examining 
the  causes,  either  of  the  removal  of  the  one,  or  the 
preferment  of  the  other.  Secondly,  because  all  power 
is  attained,  either  by  the  election  and  consent  of  the 
people  (and  that  takes  away  your  objection  of  forcible 
intrusion)  ;  or  else,  by  a  conquest  of  them  (and  that 
gives  such  a  legal  authority  as  you  mention  to  be  want- 
ing in  the  usurpation  of  a  tyrant) ;  so  that  either  this 
title  is  right,  and  then  there  are  no  usurpers,  or  else  it  is 
a  wrong  one,  and  then  there  are  none  else  but  usurpers, 
if  you  examine  the  original  pretences  of  the  princes  of 
the  world.  Thirdly,  (which,  quitting  the  dispute  in 
general,  is  a  particular  justification  of  his  highness)  the 
government  of  England  was  totally  broken  and  dis- 
solved, and  extinguished  by  the  confusions  of  a  civil 
war ;  so  that  his  highness  could  not  be  accused  to  have 
possessed  himself  violently  of  the  antient  building  of 
the  commonwealth,  but  to  have  prudently  and  peace- 
fully built  up  a  new  one  out  of  the  ruins  and  ashes  of 
the  former ;  and  he  who,  after  a  deplorable  shipwreck, 
can  with  extraordinary  industry  gather  together  the 
dispersed  and  broken  planks  and  pieces  of  it,  and  with 
no  less  wonderful  art  and  felicity  so  rejoin  them  as  to 
make  a  new  vessel  more  tight  and  beautiful  than  the 
old  one,  deserves,  no  doubt,  to  have  the  command  of  her 
(even  as  his  highness  had)  by  the  desire  of  the  seamen 


148  ON   THE    G0VERN3IENT 

and  passengers  themselves.  And  do  but  consider,  lastly, 
(for  I  omit  a  multitude  of  weighty  things,  that  might 
be  spoken  upon  this  noble  argument)  do  but  consider 
seriously  and  impartially  with  yourself,  what  admirable 
parts  of  v\nt  and  prudence,  what  indefatigable  diligence 
and  invincible  courage,  must,  of  necessity,  have  con- 
curred in  the  person  of  that  man,  who,  from  so  con- 
temptible beginnings  (as  I  observed  before,)  and  through 
so  many  thousand  difficulties,  was  able  not  only  to  make 
himself  the  greatest  and  most  absolute  monarch  of  this 
nation  ;  but  to  add  to  it  the  entire  conquest  of  Ireland 
and  Scotland  (which  the  whole  force  of  the  world,  joined 
with  the  Koman  virtue,  could  never  attain  to),  and  to 
crown  all  this  with  illustrious  and  heroical  undertakings 
and  successes  upon  all  our  foreign  enemies :  do  but  (I 
say  again)  consider  this,  and  you  will  confess,  that  his 
prodigious  merits  were  a  better  title  to  imperial  dignity, 
than  the  blood  of  an  hundred  royal  progenitors ;  and 
will  rather  lament  that  he  had  lived  not  to  overcome 
more  nations,  than  envy  him  the  conquest  and  dominion 
of  these." 

"  Whoever  you  are  (said  I,  my  indignation  making 
me  somewhat  bolder),  your  discourse  (methinks)  be- 
comes as  little  the  person  of  a  tutelar  angel,  as  Crom- 
well's actions  did  that  of  a  protector.  It  is  u})on  these 
principles,  that  all  the  great  crimes  of  the  world  have 
been  committed,  and  most  particularly  those  which  I 
have  had  the  misfortune  to  see  in  my  own  time,  and  in 
my  own  countrey.  If  these  be  to  be  aHowed,  we  must 
break  up  human  society,  retire  into  woods,  and  equally 
there  stnnd  upon  our  guards  against  our  brethren  man- 
kind, and  our  rebels  the  wild  beasts.  For,  if  there  can 
be  no  usurpation  ujDon  the  rights  of  a  whole  nation, 
there  can  be   none,  most   certainly,   upon   those  of  a 


OF    OLIVER    CROMWELL.  149 

private  person  ;  and,  if  the  robbers  of  countreys  be 
God's  vicegerents,  there  is  no  doubt  but  the  thieves  and 
banditos,  and  murderers,  are  his  under  officers.  It  is 
true,  which  you  say,  that  God  is  the  source  and  fountain 
of  all  power ;  and  it  is  no  less  true,  that  he  is  the  creator 
of  serpents,  as  well  as  angels  ;  nor  does  his  goodness 
fail  of  its  ends,  even  in  the  malice  of  his  own  creatures. 
"What  power  he  suffers  the  devil  to  exercise  in  this 
world,  is  too  apparent  by  our  daily  experience ;  and  by 
nothing  more  than  the  late  monstrous  iniquities  which 
you  dispute  for,  and  patronize  in  England :  but  would 
you  infer  from  thence,  that  the  power  of  the  devil  is  a 
just  and  lawful  one ;  and  that  all  men  ought,  as  well  as 
most  men  do,  obey  him  ?  God  is  the  fountain  of  all 
powers ;  but  some  flow  from  the  right  hand  (as  it  were) 
of  his  goodness,  and  others  from  the  left  hand  of  his 
justice ;  and  the  v/orld,  like  an  island  between  these 
two  rivers,  is  sometimes  refreshed  and  nourished  by  the 
one,  and  sometimes  over-run  and  ruined  by  the  other ; 
and  (to  continue  a  little  farther  the  allegory)  we  are 
never  overwhelmed  with  the  latter,  till,  either  by  our 
malice  or  negligence,  we  have  stopped  and  dammed  up 
the  former. 

But  to  come  a  little  closer  to  your  argument,  or 
rather  the  image  of  an  argument,  your  similitude.  If 
Cromwell  had  come  to  command  in  Ireland  in  the  place 
of  the  late  Lord  Strafford,  I  should  have  yielded  obe- 
dience, not  for  the  equipage,  and  the  strength,  and  the 
guards  which  he  brought  with  him,  but  for  the  commis- 
sion which  he  should  first  have  shewed  me  from  our 
common  sovereign  that  sent  him ;  and,  if  he  could  have 
done  that  from  God  Almighty,  I  would  have  obeyed 
him  too  in  England;  but  that  he  was  so  far  from  being 
able  to  do,  that,  on  the  contrary,  I  read  nothing  but 


150  ox    THE    G0VERN3IENT 

commands,  and  even  public   proclamations,  from  God 
Almighty,  not  to  admit  him. 

Your  second  argument  is,  that  he  had  the  same  right 
for  his  authority,  that  is  the  foundation  of  all  others, 
even  the  right  of  conquest.  Are  we  then  so  unhappy 
as  to  be  conquered  by  the  person,  whom  we  hired  at  a 
daily  rate,  like  a  labourer,  to  conquer  others  for  us? 
did  we  furnish  him  with  arms,  only  to  draw  and  try  upon 
our  enemies  (as  we,  it  seems,  falsely  thought  them),  and 
keep  them  for  ever  sheathed  in  the  bowels  of  his  friends? 
did  we  fight  for  liberty  against  our  prince,  that  we  might 
become  slaves  to  our  servant  ?  This  is  such  an  impu- 
dent pretence,  as  neither  he,  nor  any  of  his  flatterers 
for  him.  had  ever  the  face  to  mention  Though  it  can 
hardly  be  spoken  or  thought  of  without  passion,  yet  I 
shall,  if  you  please,  argue  it  more  calmly  than  the  case 
deserves. 

The  right,  certainly,  of  conquest  can  only  be  exercised 
upon  those,  against  whom  the  war  is  declared,  and  the 
victory  obtained.  So  that  no  whole  nation  can  be  said 
to  be  conquered,  but  by  foreign  force.  In  all  civil 
wars,  men  are  so  far  from  stating  the  quarrel  against 
their  countrey,  that  they  do  it  only  against  a  person,  or 
party,  which  they  really  believe,  or  at  least  pretend,  to 
be  pernicious  to  it ;  neither  can  there  be  any  just  cause 
for  the  destruction  of  a  part  of  the  body,  but  when  it  is 
done  for  the  preservation  and  safety  of  the  whole.  It 
is  our  countrey  that  raises  men  in  the  quarrel,  our 
countrey  that  arms,  our  countrey  that  pays  them,  our 
countrey  that  authorizes  the  undertaking,  and,  by  that, 
distinguishes  it  from  rapine  and  murder ;  lastly,  it  is  our 
countrey  that  directs  and  commands  the  army,  and  is 
their  general.  So  that  to  say,  in  civil  wars,  that  the 
prevailing  party  conquers  their  countrey,  is  to  say,  the 


OF    OLIVER    CROMWELL.  151 

countrey  conquers  itself.  And,  if  tlie  general  only  of 
that  party  be  conqueror,  the  army  by  which  he  is  made 
so  is  no  less  conquered  than  the  army  which  is  beaten, 
and  have  as  little  reason  to  triumph  in  that  victory,  by 
which  they  lose  both  their  honour  and  liberty.  So  that 
if  Cromwell  conquered  any  party,  it  was  only  that 
against  which  he  was  sent;  and  what  that  was,  must 
appear  by  his  commission.  It  was  (says  that)  against  u 
company  of  evil  counsellors  and  disaffected  persons,  who 
kept  the  king  from  a  good  intelligence  and  conjunction 
with  his  people.  It  was  not  then  against  the  people. 
It  is  so  far  from  being  so,  that  even  of  that  party  which 
was  beaten,  the  conquest  did  not  belong  to  Cromwell, 
but  to  the  parliament  which  employed  him  in  their  ser- 
vice, or  rather,  indeed,  to  the  king  and  parliament,  for 
whose  service  (if  there  had  been  an)'  faith  in  men's  vows 
and  protestations)  the  wars  were  undertaken.  Merciful 
God !  did  the  right  of  this  miserable  conquest  remain, 
then,  in  his  majesty ;  and  didst  thou  suffer  him  to  be 
destroyed,  with  more  barbarity,  than  if  he  had  been 
conquered  even  by  savages  and  canibals ;  was  it  for 
king  and  parliament  that  we  fought ;  and  has  it  fared 
with  them  just  as  with  the  army  which  we  fought 
against,  the  one  part  being  slain,  and  the  other  fled  ?  it 
appears  therefore  pLiinly,  that  Cromwell  was  not  a  con- 
queror, but  a  thief  and  robber  of  the  rights  of  the  king 
and  parliament,  and  an  usurper  upon  those  of  the  people. 
I  do  not  here  deny  the  conquest  to  be  sometimes  (though 
it  be  very  rarely)  a  true  title ;  but  I  deny  this  to  be  a 
true  conquest.  Sure  I  am,  that  the  race  of  our  princes 
came  not  in  by  such  a  one.  One  nation  may  conquer 
another,  sometimes,  justly ;  and  if  it  be  unjustly,  yet 
still  it  is  a  true  conquest,  and  they  are  to  answer  for 
the  injustice  only  to  God  Almighty  (having  nothing  else 


152  ON   THE    GOVERNMENT 

in  autliorlty  above  them,)  and  not  as  particular  rebels 
to  their  countrey,  which  is,  and  ought  to  be,  their  supe- 
rior and  their  lord.  If,  perhaps,  we  find  usurpation 
instead  of  conquest  in  the  original  titles  of  some  royal 
families  abroad  (as,  no  doubt,  there  have  been  many 
usurpers  before  ours,  though  none  in  so  impudent  and 
execrable  a  manner :)  all  I  can  say  for  them  is,  that 
their  title  was  very  weak,  till,  by  length  of  time,  and  the 
death  of  all  juster  pretenders,  it  became  to  be  the  true, 
because  it  wa,s  the  only  one. 

Your  third  defence  of  his  highness  (as  your  highness 
pleases  to  call  him)  enters  in  most  seasonably  after  his 
pretence  of  conquest ;  for  then  a  man  may  say  any  thing. 
The  government  was  broken  ;  who  broke  it  ?  It  was 
dissolved  ;  who  dissolved  it?  It  was  extinguished  ;  who 
was  it,  but  Cromwell,  who  not  only  put  out  the  light, 
but  cast  away  even  the  very  snuff  of  it  ?  As  if  a  man 
should  murder  a  whole  family,  and  then  possess  himself 
of  the  house,  because  it  is  better  that  he,  than  that  only 
rats,  should  live  there.  Jesus  God  !  (said  I,  and  at  that 
word  I  perceived  my  pretended  angel  to  give  a  start  and 
trembled,  but  I  took  no  notice  of  it,  and  went  on)  this 
were  a  wicked  pretension,  even  though  the  whole  family 
were  destroyed ;  but  the  heirs  (blessed  be  God)  are  yet 
surviving,  and  likely  to  outlive  all  heirs  of  their  dispos- 
sessors,  besides  their  infamy.  "  Rode,  caper,  viteni,"  &c. 
There  will  be  yet  wine  enough  left  for  the  sacrifice  of 
those  wild  beasts,  that  have  made  so  much  spoil  in  the 
vineyard.  But  did  Cromwell  think,  like  Nero,  to  set 
the  city  on  fiie,  only  that  he  might  have  the  honour  of 
being  founder  of  a  new  and  more  beautiful  one?  He 
could  not  have  such  a  shadow  of  virtue  in  his  wicked- 
ness ;  he  meant  only  to  rob  more  securely  and  more 
richly  in  midst  of  the  combustion ;  he  little  thought  then 


OF    OLIVER    CROMWELL.  153 

that  he  should  ever  have  been  able  to  make  himself 
master  of  the  palace,  as  well  as  plunder  the  goods  of  the 
commonwealth.  He  was  glad  to  see  the  public  vessel 
(the  sovereign  of  the  seas)  in  as  desperate  a  condition 
as  his  own  little  canoe,  and  thought  only,  with  some 
scattered  planks  of  that  great  shipwreck,  to  make  a 
better  fisher-boat  for  himself.  But  when  he  saw  that, 
bj  the  drowning  of  the  master  (whomhe  himself  treacher- 
ously knocked  on  the  head,  as  he  was  swimming  for  his 
life),  by  the  tlight  and  dispersion  of  other.s,  and  cowardly 
j)atience  of  the  remaining  company,  that  all  was  aban- 
doned to  his  pleasure ;  with  the  old  hulk  and  new  mis- 
shapen and  disagreeing  pieces  of  his  own,  he  made  up, 
with  much  ado,  that  piratical  vessel  which  we  have  seen 
him  command,  and  which,  how  tight  indeed  it  was,  may 
best  be  judged  by  its  perpetual  leaking. 

First  then  (much  more  wicked  than  those  foolish 
daughters  in  the  fable,  who  cut  their  old  father  into 
I)ieces,  in  hope,  by  charms  and  witchcraft,  to  make  him 
young  and  lusty  again),  this  man  endeavoured  to  destroy 
the  building,  before  he  could  imagine  in  what  manner, 
with  what  materials,  by  what  workmen,  or  what  archi- 
tect, it  was  to  be  rebuilt.  Secondly,  if  he  had  dreamed 
himself  to  be  able  to  revive  that  body  which  he  had 
killed,  yet  it  had  been  but  the  insupportable  insolence  of 
an  ignorant  mountebank ;  and,  thirdly,  (which  concerns 
us  nearest,)  that  very  new  thing  which  he  made  out  of 
the  ruins  of  the  old,  is  no  more  like  the  original,  either 
for  beauty,  use,  or  duration,  than  an  artificial  plant, 
raised  by  the  fire  of  a  chemist,  is  comparable  to  the  true 
and  natural  one  which  he  first  burnt,  that  out  of  the 
ashes  of  it  he  might  produce  an  imperfect  similitude  of 
his  own  making. 

Your  last  argument  is  such  (when  reduced  to  syllo- 


154  ON   THE    GOVERNMENT 

gism),  that  the  major  proposition  of  it  would  make 
strange  work  in  the  world,  if  it  were  received  for  truth: 
to  wit,  that  he  who  has  the  best  parts  in  a  nation,  has 
the  right  of  being  king  over  it.  We  had  enough  to  do 
here  of  old  with  the  contention  between  two  branches 
of  the  same  family  :  what  would  become  of  us,  when 
every  man  in  England  should  lay  his  claim  to  the  govern- 
ment ?  And  truly,  if  Cromwell  should  have  commenced 
his  plea,  when  he  seems  to  have  begun  his  ambition, 
there  were  few  persons  besides,  that  might  not  at  the 
same  time  have  put  in  theirs  too.  But  his  deserts,  I 
suppose,  you  will  date  from  the  same  term  that  I  do  his 
great  demerits,  that  is,  from  the  beginning  of  our  late 
calamities  (for,  as  for  his  private  faults  before,  I  can 
only  wish,  and  that  with  as  much  charity  to  him  as  to 
the  public,  that  he  had  continued  in  them  till  his  death, 
rather  than  changed  them  for  those  of  his  latter  days)  ; 
and,  therefore,  we  must  begin  the  consideration  of  his 
greatness  from  the  unlucky  sera  of  our  own  misfortunes, 
which  puts  me  in  mind  of  what  was  said  less  truly  of 
Pompey  the  Great,  "  Nostra  miseria  magnus  es."  But, 
because  the  general  ground  of  your  argumentation  con- 
sists in  this,  that  all  men  who  are  the  eifecters  of  extra- 
ordinary mutations  in  the  world,  must  needs  have 
extraordinary  forces  of  nature  by  which  they  are  enabled 
to  turn  about,  as  they  please,  so  great  a  wheel ;  I  shall 
speak,  first,  a  few  words  upon  this  universal  proposition, 
which  seems  so  reasonable,  and  is  so  popular,  before  I 
descend  to  the  particular  examination  of  the  eminences 
of  that  person  which  is  in  question. 

I  have  often  observed  (with  all  submission  and  resig- 
nation of  spirit  to  the  inscrutable  mysteries  of  Eternal 
Providence),  that,  when  the  fulness  and  maturity  of  time 
is  come, that  produces  the  great  confusions  and  changes 


OF    OLIVER    CROMWELL.  155 

in  the  world,  it  usually  pleases  God  to  make  it  appear, 
by  the  manner  of  then),  that  they  are  not  the  effects  of 
human  force  or  policy,  but  of  the  divine  justice  and 
predestination  ;  and,  though  we  see  a  man,  like  that 
which  we  call  Jack  of  the  clock-house,  striking,  as  it 
were,  the  hour  of  that  fulness  of  time,  yet  our  reason 
must  needs  be  convinced,  that  his  hand  is  moved  by 
some  secret,  and,  to  us  who  stand  without,  invisible 
direction.  And  the  stream  of  the  current  is  then  so  vio- 
lent, that  the  strongest  men  in  the  world  cannot  draw 
up  against  it ;  and  none  are  so  weak,  but  they  may  sail 
down  with  [it.  These  are  the  spring-tides  of  public 
affairs,  which  we  see  often  happen,  but  seek  in  vain  to 
discover  any  certain  causes  : 

— Omnia  fluminis^' 
Ritu  feruntur,  nunc  medio  alveo 
Cum  pace  delabentis  Etruscum 

In  mare,  nunc  lapides  adesos, 
Stirpesque  raptas,  &  pecus,  &  domos 
Yolventis  una,  non  sine  montium 
Clamors,  vicinteque  sylvfe ; 
Cum  fera  diluvies  quietos 
Irritat  amnes.  Hor.  3,  Curm.  xxix. 

And  one  man  then,  by  maliciously  opening  all  the 
sluices  that  he  can  come  at,  can  never  be  the  sole  author 
of  all  this  (though  he  may  be  as  guilty  as  if  really  he 
were,  by  intending  and  imagining  to  be  so)  ;  but  it  is 
God  that  breaks  up  the  flood-gates  of  so  general  a  deluge, 
and  all  the  art  then,  and  industry  of  mankind,  is  not 
sufficient  to  raise  up  dikes  and  ramparts  against  it.  In 
such  a  time,  it  was,  as  this,  that  not  all  the  wisdom  and 
power  of  the  Roman  senate,  nor  the  wit  and  eloquence 
of  Cicero,  nor  the   courage  and  virtue  of  Brutus,  was 

"   Cowlev  iTiSerts  '  omnia''  for  the  ^ccEttra'  of  Horace. 


156  ON    THE     GOVERNMENT 

able  to  defend  their  countrey,  or  themselves,  against  the 
unexperienced  rashness  of  a  beardless  boy,  and  the  loose 
rage  of  a  voluptuous  madman. ^"^  The  valour,  and  prudent 
counsels,  on  the  one  side,  are  made  fruitless,  and  the 
errors,  and  cowardice,  on  the  other,  harmless,  by  unex- 
pected accidents.  The  one  general  saves  his  life,  and 
gains  the  whole  world,  by  a  very  dream  ;  and  the  other 
loses  both  at  once,  by  a  little  mistake  of  the  shortness 
of  his  sight.^^  And  though  this  be  not  always  so,  for  we 
see  that,  in  the  translation  of  the  great  monarchies  from 
one  to  another,  it  pleased  God  to  make  choice  of  the 
most  eminent  men  in  nature,  as  Cyrus,  Alexander, 
Scipio,  and  his  contemporaries,  for  his  chief  instruments, 
and  actors,  in  so  admirable  a  work  (the  end  of  this 
being,  not  only  to  destroy  or  punish  one  nation,  which 
may  be  done  by  the  worst  of  mankind,  but  to  exalt  and 
bless  another,  Avhich  is  only  to  be  effected  by  great  and 
virtuous  persons);  yet,  when  God  only  intends  the  tem- 
porary chastisement  of  a  people,  he  does  not  raise  up 
his  servant  Cyrus  (as  he  himself  is  pleased  to  call  him), 
or  an  Alexander  (who  had  as  many  virtues  to  do  good, 
as  vices  to  do  harm)  ;  but  he  makes  the  Masaniellos, 
and  the  Johns  of  Leyden,  the  instruments  of  his  ven- 
geance, that  the  power  of  the  Almighty  might  be  more 
evident  by  the  Aveakness  of  the  means  which  he  chooses 
to  demonstrate  it.  Pie  did  not  assemble  the  serpents, 
and  the  monsters  of  Afric,  to  correct  the  pride  of  the 
Egyptians ;  but  called  for  his  armies  of  locusts  out  of 

'^  Octavins  and  Antony. 

^^  It  was  owing  to  a  dream  of  his  physician,  that  Octavius 
saved  his  life  (by  quitting  his  tent,  where  he  was  sick,  in  a 
critical  moment),  and  assisted  at  the  battle  of  Philippi,  -which 
gained  him  the  whole  world.  Cassius's  death,  and  the  ill-success 
at  Philippi,  was  owing  to  a  mistake  which  this  geueral  fell  into, 
by  the  shortness  of  his  sight. 


OF    OLIVER    CROMWELL.  i^j 

Ethiopia,  and  formed  new  ones  of  vermin  out  of  the 
verj  dust ;  and,  because  you  see  a  whole  country  de- 
stroyed by  these,  will  you  argue  from  thence  they  must 
needs  have  had  both  the  craft  of  foxes,  and  the  courage 
of  lions  ? 

It  is  easy  to  apply  this  general  oljservatlon  to  the 
])articular  case  of  our  troubles  in  England  :  and  that 
they  seem  only  to  be  meant  for  a  temporary  chastise- 
ment of  our  sins,  and  not  for  a  total  abolishment  of  the 
old,  and  introduction  of  a  new  government,  aj)pears 
probable  to  me  from  these  considerations,  as  far  as  we 
may  be  bold  to  make  a  judgment  of  the  will  of  God  in 
future  events.  First,  because  he  has  suffered  nolhing 
to  settle,  or  take  root,  in  the  place  of  that  which  hath 
been  so  unwisely  and  unjustly  removed,  that  none  of 
these  untempered  mortars  can  hold  out  against  the  next 
blast  of  wind,  nor  any  stone  stick  to  a  stone,  till  that 
which  these  foolish  builders  have  refused  be  made  again 
the  head  of  the  corner.  For,  when  the  indisposed  and 
long-tormented  commonwealth  has  wearied  and  spent 
itself  almost  to  nothing,  with  the  chargeable,  various, 
and  dangerous  experiments  of  several  mountebanks,  it 
is  to  be  supposed,  it  will  have  the  wit  at  last  to  send  for 
a  true  physician,  especially  when  it  sees  (which  is  the 
second  consideration)  most  evidently  (as  it  now  begins 
to  do,  and  will  do  every  day  more  and  more,  and  might 
have  done  perfectly  long  since)  that  no  usurpation 
(under  what  name  or  pretext  soever)  can  be  kept  up 
without  open  force,  nor  force  without  the  continuance 
of  those  oppressions  upon  the  people,  which  will,  at  last, 
tire  out  their  patience,  though  it  be  great  even  to 
stupidity.  They  cannot  be  so  dull  (when  poverty  and 
hunger  begin  to  whet  their  understanding)  as  not  to 
find  out  this  no  extraordinary  mystery,  that  it  is  mad- 


158  ON    THE    G0VERX3IEXT 

ness  in  a  nation  to  pay  three  millions  a  year  for  the 
maintaining  of  their  servitude  under  tyrants,  when  they 
might  live  free  for  nothing  under  their  princes.  This, 
I  say,  will  not  always  lie  hid,  even  to  the  slowest 
capacities ;  and  the  next  truth  they  will  discover  after- 
wards is,  that  a  whole  people  can  never  have  the  will, 
without  having,  at  the  same  time,  the  power  to  redeem 
themselves.  Thirdly,  it  does  not  look  (methinks)  as  if 
God  had  forsaken  the  family  of  that  man,  from  whom  he 
has  raised  up  five  children,  of  as  eminent  virtue,  and  all 
other  commendable  qualities,  as  ever  lived  perhaps  (for 
so  many  together,  and  so  young)  in  any  other  family  in 
the  whole  world.  Especially,  if  we  add  hereto  this  con- 
sideration, that,  by  protecting  and  preserving  some  of 
them  already  through  as  great  dangers  as  ever  were 
past  with  safety,  either  by  prince  or  private  person,  he 
has  given  them  already  (as  we  may  reasonably  hope  it 
to  be  meant)  a  promise  and  earnest  of  his  future  favours. 
And,  lastly,  (to  return  closely  to  the  discourse  from 
wiiich  I  have  a  little  digressed)  because  I  see  nothing  of 
those  excellent  parts  of  nature,  and  mixture  of  merit 
with  their  vices,  in  the  late  disturbers  of  our  peace  and 
happiness,  that  uses  to  be  found  in  the  persons  of  those 
who  are  born  for  the  erection  of  new  empires. 

And,  I  confess,  I  find  nothing  of  that  kind,  no  not 
any  shadow  (taking  away  the  false  light  of  some  pros- 
perity) in  the  man  whom  you  extol  for  the  first  example 
of  it.  And,  certainly,  all  virtues  being  rightly  divided 
into  moral  and  intellectual,  I  know  not  how  we  can 
better  judge  of  the  former,  than  by  men's  actions  ;  or  of 
the  latter,  than  by  their  writings,  or  speeches.  As  for 
these  latter  (which  are  least  in  merit,  or,  rather,  which 
are  only  the  instruments  of  mischief,  where  the  other 
are  wanting,)  I  think  you  can  hardly  pick  out  the  name 


OF   OLIVER    CROMWELL.  159 

of  a  man  who  ever  was  called  great,  besides  him  we  are 
now  speaking  of,  who  never  left  the  memory  behind  him 
of  one  wise  or  witty  apophthegm  even  amongst  his 
domestic  servants  or  greatest  flatterers.  That  littlje  in 
print,  which  remains  upon  a  sad  record  for  him,  is 
such,  as  a  satire  against  him  would  not  have  made  him 
say,  for  fear  of  transgressing  too  much  the  rules  of  pro- 
bability. I  know  not  what  you  can  produce  for  the 
justification  of  his  parts  in  this  kind,  but  his  having  been 
able  to  deceive  so  many  particular  persons,  and  so  many 
whole  parties  ;  Avhich,  if  you  please  to  take  notice  of  for 
the  advantage  of  his  intellectuals,  I  desire  you  to  allow 
me  the  liberty  to  do  so  too  when  I  am  to  speak  of  his 
morals.  The  truth  of  the  thing  is  this,  that  if  craft  be 
wisdom,  and  dissimulation  wit  (assisted  both  and  im- 
proved with  hypocrisies  and  perjuries),  I  must  not  deny 
him  to  have  been  singular  in  both  ;  but  so  gross  was  the 
manner  in  which  he  made  use  of  them,  that,  as  wise  men 
ought  not  to  have  believed  him  at  first,  so  no  man  was 
fool  enough  to  believe  him  at  last :  neither  did  any  man 
seem  to  do  it,  but  those  who  thought  they  gained  as  much 
by  that  dissembling,  as  he  did  by  his.  His  very  actings 
of  godliness  grew  at  last  as  ridiculous,  as  if  a  player,  by 
putting  on  a  gown,  should  think  he  represented  excel- 
lently a  woman,  though  his  beard,  at  the  same  time, 
were  seen  by  all  the  spectators.  If  you  ask  me,  why 
they  did  not  hiss,  and  explode  him  off  the  stage  ;  I  can 
only  answer,  that  they  durst  not  do  so,  because  the 
actors  and  the  door-keepers  were  too  strong  for  the 
company.  I  must  confess  that  by  these  arts  (how 
grossly  soever  managed,  as  by  hypocritical  praying  and 
silly  preaching,  by  unmanly  tears  and  whinings,  by  tahe- 
hoods  and  perjuries  even  diabolical)  he  had  at  first  the 
good-fortune  (as  men  call  it,  that  is,  the  ill-fortune)  to 


i6o  OX   THE    GOVERNMENT 

attain  liIs  er.ds  ;  but  it  was  because  bis  ends  were  so  un- 
reasonable, that  no  human  reason  could  foresee  them  ; 
which  made  them,  who  had  to  do  with  him,  believe,  that 
he  was  rather  a  well-meaning  and  deluded  bigot,  than  a 
crafty  and  malicious  impostor :  that  these  arts  were 
helped  by  an  indefatigable  industry  (as  you  term  it),  I 
am  so  far  from  doubting,  that  I  intended  to  object  that 
diligence,  as  the  worst  of  his  crimes.  It  makes  me 
almost  mad,  when  I  hear  a  man  commended  for  his 
diligence  in  wickedness.  If  I  were  his  son,  I  should 
wish  to  God  he  had  been  a  more  lazy  person,  and  that 
we  might  have  found  him  sleeping  at  the  hours  when 
other  men  are  ordinarily  waking,  rather  than  waking 
for  those  ends  of  his  when  other  men  were  ordinarily 
asleep.  How  diligent  the  wicked  are,  the  Scripture 
often  tells  us  ;  Their  feet  run  to  evil,  and  they  make  haste 
to  shed  innocent  blood,  Isai.  lix.  7.  He  ti-avels  icith 
iniquity,  Psal.  vii.  14.  He  deviseth  mischief  upon  his  bed, 
Psal.  xxxiv.  4.  They  search  out  iniquity,  they  accomplish 
a  diligent  seaj'ch,  Psal.  Ixiv.  6  ;  and  in  a  multitude  of 
other  places.  And  would  it  not  seem  ridiculous  to 
praise  a  wolf  for  his  watchfulness,  and  for  his  inde- 
fatigable industry  in  ranging  all  night  about  the  country, 
whilst  the  sheep,  and  perhaps  the  shepherd,  and  perhaps 
the  very  dogs  too,  are  all  asleep  ? 

The  Chartreux  wants  the  warning  of  a  bell 

To  call  him  to  the  duties  of  his  cell; 

There  needs  no  noise  at  all  t'awaken  sin, 

Th'  adulterer  and  the  thief  his  'larum  has  within. 

And,  if  the  diligence  of  Avicked  persons  be  so  much 
to  be  blamed,  as  that  it  is  only  an  emphasis  and  ex- 
aggeration of  their  wickedness,  I  see  not  how  their 
courage  can  avoid    the  same  censure.      If  the  under- 


OF    OLIVER    CROMWELL.  i6i 

taking  bold  and  vast  and  unreasonable  designs  can  de- 
serve that  honourable  name,  I  am  sure,  Faux,  and  his 
fellow  gun-powder  friends,  Avill  have  cause  to  pretend, 
though  not  an  equal,  yet  at  least  the  next  place  of 
honour  ;  neither  can  I  doubt  but,  if  they  too  had  suc- 
ceeded, they  would  have  found  their  applauders  and 
admirers.  It  was  bold,  unquestionably,  for  a  man,  in 
defiance  of  all  human  and  divine  laws,  (and  with  so  little 
probability  of  a  long  impunity,)  so  publicly  and  so  out- 
rageously to  murder  his  master  ;  it  was  bold,  with  so 
much  insolence  and  aifront,  to  expel,  and  disperse,  all 
the  chief  partners  of  his  guilt,  and  creators  of  his 
power ;  it  was  bold,  to  violate,  so  openly  and  so  scorn- 
fully, all  acts  and  constitutions  of  a  nation,  and  after- 
wards even  of  his  own  making ;  it  was  bold,  to  assume 
the  authority  of  calling,  and  bolder  yet  of  breaking,  so 
many  parliaments  ;  it  was  bold,  to  trample  upon  the 
patience  of  his  own,  and  provoke  that  of  all  neighbour- 
ing countries ;  it  was  bold,  I  say,  above  all  boldnesses, 
to  usurp  this  tyranny  to  himself;  and  impudent  above 
all  impudences,  to  endeavour  to  transmit  it  to  his  pos- 
terity. But  all  this  boldness  is  so  far  from  being  a  sign 
of  manly  courage  (which  dares  not  transgress  the  rules 
of  any  other  virtue,)  that  it  is  only  a  demonstration  of 
brutish  madness  or  diabolical  possession.  In  both  which 
last  cases  there  use  frequent  examples  to  appear,  of  such 
extraordinary  force  as  may  justly  seem  more  wonderful 
and  astonishing  than  the  actions  of  Cromwell;  neither  is 
it  stranger  to  believe  that  a  whole  nation  should  not  be 
able  to  govern  him  and  a  mad  army,  than  that  five  or 
six  men  should  not  be  strong  enough  to  bind  a  distracted 
girl.  There  is  no  man  ever  succeeds  in  one  wickedness, 
but  it  gives  him  the  boldness  to  attempt  a  greater.  It 
was  boldly  done  of  Nero  to  kill  his  mother,  and  uU  the 

M 


i62  ON   THE    GOVERNMENT 

chief  nobility  of  the  empire ;  it  was  boldly  done,  to 
set  the  metropolis  of  the  whole  world  on  fire,  and  un- 
dauntedly play  upon  his  harp,  whilst  he  saw  it  burning; 
I  could  reckon  up  five  hundred  boldnesses  of  that  great 
person,  (for  why  should  not  he,  too,  be  called  so  ?)  who 
wanted,  when  he  was  to  die,  that  courage  which  could 
hardly  have  failed  any  woman  in  the  like  necessity. 

It  would  look  (I  must  confess,)  like  envy,  or  too 
much  partiality,  if  I  should  say  that  personal  kind  of 
courage  had  been  deficient  in  the  man  we  speak  of;  I 
am  confident  it  was  not :  and  yet  I  may  venture,  I 
think,  to  aflirm,  that  no  man  ever  bore  the  honour  of  so 
many  victories,  at  the  rate  of  fewer  wounds,  or  dangers 
of  his  own  body ;  and  though  his  valour  might,  perhaps, 
have  given  him  a  just  pretension  to  one  of  the  first 
charges  in  an  army,  it  could  not  certainly  be  a  sufficient 
ground  for  a  title  to  the  command  of  three  nations. 

What  then  shall  we  say  ?  that  he  did  all  this  by 
witchcraft  ?  He  did  so,  indeed,  in  a  great  measure,  by 
a  sin  that  is  called  like  it  in  the  Scriptures.  But,  truly 
and  unpassionately  reflecting  upon  the  advantages  of 
his  person,  which  might  be  thought  to  have  produced 
those  of  his  fortune,  I  can  espy  no  other  but  extra- 
ordinary diligence,  and  infinite  dissimulation ;  and  be- 
lieve he  was  exalted  above  his  nation,  partly  by  his  own 
faults,  but  chiefly  for  ours. 

We  have  brought  him  thus  briefly  (not  through  all 
his  labyrinths)  to  the  supreme  usurped  authority  ;  and, 
because  you  say  it  was  great  pity  he  did  not  live  to 
command  more  kingdoms,  be  pleased  to  let  me  represent 
to  you,  in  a  few  words,  how  well  I  conceive  he  governed 
these.  And  we  will  divide  the  consideration  into  that 
of  his  foreign  and  domestic  actions.  The  first  of  his 
foreign  was  a  peace  with  our  brethren  of  Holland  (who 


OF    OLIVER    CROMWELL.  163 

were  the  first  of  our  neighbours  that  God  chastised  for 
having  had  so  great  a  hand  in  the  encouraging  and 
abetting  our  troubles  at  home) :  who  would  not  imagine, 
at  first  glimpse,  that  this  had  been  the  most  virtuous 
and  laudable  deed,  that  his  whole  life  could  have  made 
any  parade  of?  but  no  man  can  look  upon  all  the  cir- 
cumstances, without  perceiving,  that  it  was  purely  the 
sale  and  sacrificing  of  the  greatest  advantages  that  this 
countrey  could  ever  hope,  and  was  ready  to  reap,  from 
a  foreign  war,  to  the  private  interests  of  his  covetous- 
ness  and  ambition,  and  the  security  of  his  new  and  un- 
settled usurpation.  Xo  sooner  is  that  danger  past,  but 
this  Beatus  Pacificus  is  kindling  a  fire  in  the  northern 
world,  and  carrying  a  war  two  thousand  miles  off,  west- 
wards. Two  millions  a  year  (besides  all  the  vales  of 
his  protectorship)  is  as  little  capable  to  suffice  now 
either  his  avarice  or  prodigality,  as  the  two  hundred 
pounds  were,  that  he  was  born  to.  He  must  have  his 
prey  of  the  whole  Indies,  both  by  sea  and  land,  this 
great  alligator.  To  satisfy  our  Anti- Solomon  (who  has 
made  silver  almost  as  rare  as  gold,  and  gold  as  precious 
stones  in  his  new  Jerusalem)  we  must  go,  ten  thousand 
of  his  slaves,  to  fetch  him  riches  from  his  fantastical 
Ophir.  And,  because  his  flatterers  brag  of  him  as  the 
most  fortunate  prince  (the  Faustus,  as  well  as  Sylla,  of 
our  nation,  whom  God  never  forsook  in  any  of  his  un- 
dertakings), I  desire  them  to  consider,  how,  since  the 
English  name  was  ever  heard  of,  it  never  received  so 
great  and  so  infamous  a  blow  as  under  the  imprudent 
conduct  of  this  unlucky  Faustus  ;  and,  herein,  let  me 
admire  the  justice  of  God,  in  this  circumstance,  that 
they,  who  had  enslaved  their  countrey,  (though  a  great 
army,  which  I  wish,  may  be  observed  by  ours  with 
trembling),  should  be  so  shamefully  defeated,  by  the 


i64  ON    THE    GOVERNMENT 

hands  of  forty  slaves.  It  Avas  very  ridiculous  to  see 
bow  prettily  tliey  endeavoured  to  hide  this  ignominy, 
under  the  great  name  of  the  conqiiest  of  Jamaica;  as  if 
a  defeated  army  should  have  the  impudence  to  brag 
afterwards  of  the  victory,  because,  though  they  had  fled 
out  of  the  field  of  battle,  yet  they  quartered  that  night 
in  a  village  of  the  enemies.  The  war  with  Spain  was 
a  necessary  consequence  of  this  folly ;  and  how  much 
we  have  gotten  by  it,  let  the  custom-house  and  exchange 
inform  you ;  and,  if  he  please  to  boast  of  the  taking  a 
part  of  the  silver  fleet,  (which,  indeed,  nobody  else  but 
he  who  was  the  sole  gainer,  has  cause  to  do),  at  least, 
let  him  give  leave  to  the  rest  of  the  nation  (which  is  the 
only  loser),  to  complain  of  the  loss  of  twelve  hundred 
of  her  ships. 

But,  because  it  may  here,  perhaps,  be  answered,  that 
his  successes  nearer  home  have  extinguished  the  dis- 
grace of  so  remote  miscarriages,  and  that  Dunkirk  ought 
more  to  be  remembered  for  his  glory,  than  St.  Domingo 
for  his  disadvantage  ;  I  must  confess,  as  to  the  honour 
of  the  English  courage,  that  they  were  not  wanting  upon 
that  occasion  (excepting  only  the  fault  of  serving  at 
least  indirectly  against  their  master),  to  the  upholding 
of  the  renown  of  their  war-like  ancestors.  But,  for  his 
particular  share  of  it,  who  sate  still  at  home,  and 
exposed  them  so  frankly  abroad,  I  can  only  say,  that, 
for  less  money  than  he  in  the  short  time  of  his  reign 
exacted  from  his  fellow-subjects,  some  of  our  former 
princes  (with  the  daily  hazard  of  their  own  persons) 
have  added  to  the  dominion  of  England,  not  only  one 
town,  but  even  a  greater  kingdom  than  itself.  And, 
this  being  all  considerable  as  concerning  his  enterprizes 
abroad,  let  us  examine,  in  the  next  place,  how  much  we 
owe  him  for  his  justice  and  good  government  at  home. 


OF    OLIVER    CROMWELL,  165 

And,  first,  he  found  the  commonwealth  (as  they  then 
called  it)  in  a  ready  stock  of  about  800,000  pounds  ;  he 
left  the  commonwealth  (as  he  hud  the  impudent  raillery 
still  to  call  it)  some  two  millions  and  a  half  in  debt.  He 
found  our  trade  very  much  decayed  indeed,  in  coin- 
parison  of  the  golden  times  of  our  late  princes ;  he  left 
it,  as  much  again  more  decayed  than  he  found  it :  and 
yet,  not  only  no  prince  in  England,  but  no  tyrant  in  the 
world,  ever  sought  out  more  base  or  infamous  means  to 
raise  monies.  I  shall  only  instance  in  one  that  he  put 
in  practice,  and  another  that  he  attempted,  but  was 
frighted  from  the  execution  (even  he)  by  the  infamy 
of  it.  That  which  he  put  in  practice,  was  decimation  ;  '"* 
which  was  the  most  impudent  breach  of  all  public  faith 
that  the  whole  nation  had  given,  and  all  private  capitu- 
lations which  himself  had  made,  as  the  nation's  general 
and  servant,  that  can  be  found  out  (I  believe)  in  all 
history,  from  any  of  the  most  barbarous  generals  of  the 
most  barbarous  people.  "Which,  because  it  has  been 
most  excellently,  and  most  largely,  laid  open  by  a  whole 
book  ^^  written  upon  that  subject,  I  shall  only  desire  you 
here  to  remember  the  thing  in  general,  and  to  be  pleased 
to  look  upon  that  author,  when  you  would  recollect  all 
the  particulars  and  circumstances  of  the  iniquity.     The 


'■*  Decimation  here  means  not  the  putting  to  death  of  every 
terith  man,h\xt  the  levying  of  the  tenth  petitjy  on  the  estates  of  the 
royalists.  I  find  the  word  so  used  by  bir  J.  Denham,  among 
whose  poems  there  is  one  entitled,  '"On  ray  lord  Croft's,  and  my 
journey  into  Poland,  from  whence  we  brought  10,000/,  for  his 
majesty,  by  the  dtcimation  of  his  Scottish  subjects  there."  But 
see  Lord  Clarendon's  History,  vol.  iii.  p.  443,  fol. 

'^  This  book  is  probably  the  same  which  was  written  by  the 
king's  command  at  Cologne,  and  most  probably  by  Sir  Edward 
Hyde.     Hist,  of  the  Eebellion,  vol.  iii.  p.  445,  fol. 


1 66  OJV    THE    G0VERN3IENT 

other  design,  of  raising  a  present  sum  of  money,  which 
he  violently  pursued,  but  durst  not  put  in  execution, 
was  by  the  calling  in  and  establishment  of  the  Jews  at 
London  ;  from  which  he  was  rebuted  by  the  universal 
outcry  of  the  divines,  and  even  of  the  citizens  too,  who 
took  it  ill,  that  a  considerable  number,  at  least  amongst 
themselves,  were  not  thought  Jews  enough  by  their  own 
Herod.  And  for  this  design,  they  say,  he  invented  (O 
Antichrist!  Tiovr^pov  and  6  TlovriooQl)  to  sell  St.  Paul's 
to  them  for  a  synagogue,  if  their  purses  and  devotions 
could  have  reached  to  the  purchase.  And  this,  indeed, 
if  he  had  done  only  to  reward  that  nation,  which  had 
given  the  first  noble  example  of  crucifying  their  king, 
it'  might  have  had  some  appearance  of  gratitude  :  but 
he  did  it  only  for  love  of  their  mammon ;  and  would 
have  sold  afterwards,  for  as  much  more,  St.  Peter's  (even 
at  his  own  Westminster)  to  the  Turks  for  a  mosquito. 
Such  was  his  extraordinary  piety  to  God,  that  he  desired 
he  might  be  worshipped  in  all  manners,  excepting  only 
that  heathenish  way  of  the  Common-prayer-book.  But 
what  do  I  speak  of  his  wicked  inventions  for  getting 
money ;  when  every  penny,  that  for  almost  five  years 
he  took  every  day  from  every  man  living  in  England, 
Scotland,  and  Ireland,  was  as  much  robbery,  as  if  it  had 
been  taken  by  a  thief  upon  the  highways  ?  Was  it  not 
so  ?  or  can  any  man  think  that  Cromwell,  with  the 
assistance  of  his  forces  and  moss-troopers,  had  more 
right  to  the  command  of  all  men's  purses,  than  he  might 
have  had  to  any  one's,  whom  he  had  met,  and  been  too 
strong  for,  upon  a  road  ?  And  yet,  when  this  came,  in  the 
case  of  Mr.  Coney,^^  to  be  disputed  by  a  legal  trial,  he 


J^  Which  the  reader  may  see  in  Lord  Clarendon's  History, 
vol.  iii.  p.  506j  fol. 


OF    OLIVER    CROMWELL.  167 

(which  was  the  highest  act  of  tyranny  that  ever  was 
seen  in  England)  not  only  discouraged  and  threatened, 
but  violently  imprisoned  the  counsel  of  the  plaintiff; 
that  is,  he  shut  up  the  law  itself  close  prisoner,  that  no 
man  might  have  relief  from,  or  access  to  it.  And  it 
ought  to  be  remembered,  that  this  was  done  by  those 
men,  who,  a  few  years  before,  had  so  bitterly  decried, 
and  openly  opposed,  the  king's  regular  and  formal  way 
of  proceeding  in  the  trial  of  a  little  ship-money. 

But,  though  we  lost  the  benefit  of  our  old  courts  of 
justice,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  he  set  up  new  ones  ;  and 
such  they  were !  that,  as  no  virtuous  prince  before 
would,  so  no  ill  one  durst,  erect.  What,  have  we  lived 
so  many  hundred  years  under  such  a  form  of  justice  as 
has  been  able  regularly  to  punish  all  men  that  offended 
against  it ;  and  is  it  so  deficient,  just  now,  that  we  must 
seek  out  new  ways  how  to  proceed  against  offenders? 
The  reason  which  can  only  be  given  in  nature  for  a 
necessity  of  this,  is,  because  those  things  are  now  made 
crimes,  which  were  never  esteemed  so  in  former  ages ; 
and  there  must  needs  be  a  new  court  set  up  to  punish 
that,  which  all  the  old  ones  were  bound  to  protect  and 
reward.  But  I  am  so  far  from  declaiming  (as  you  call 
it)  against  these  wickednesses,  (which,  if  I  should  under- 
take to  do,  I  should  never  get  to  the  peroration),  that 
you  see  I  only  give  a  hint  of  some  few,  and  pass  over 
the  rest,  as  things  that  are  too  many  to  be  numbered,  and 
must  only  be  weighed  in  gross.  Let  any  man  shew  me,  (for, 
though  I  pretend  not  to  much  reading,  I  will  defy  him  in 
all  history),  let  any  man  shew  me  (I  say)  an  example  of 
any  nation  in  the  world,  (though  much  greater  than  ours), 
where  there  have,  in  the  space  of  four  years,  been  made  so 
many  prisoners,  only  out  of  the  endless  jealousies  of  one 
tyrant's  guilty  imagination.     I  grant  you,  that  Marius 


1 68  ON   THE    GOVERNMENT 

and  Sylla,  and  the  accursed  triumvirate  after  them,  put 
more  people  to  death  ;  but  the  reason,  I  think,  partly 
was,  because  in  those  times,  that  had  a  mixture  of  some 
honour  with  their  madness,  they  thought  it  a  more  civil 
revenge  against  a  Eoman,  to  take  away  his  life,  than  to 
take  away  his  liberty.  But  truly,  in  the  point  of 
murder  too  we  have  little  reason  to  think  that  our 
late  tyranny  has  been  deficient  to  the  examples  tliat 
have  ever  been  set  it,  in  other  countries.  Our  judges 
and  our  courts  of  justice  have  not  been  idle  :  and, 
to  omit  the  whole  reign  of  our  late  king  (till  the'  be- 
ginning of  the  war),  in  which  no  drop  of  blood  was  ever 
drawn  but  from  two  or  three  ears,  I  think  the  longest 
time  of  our  worst  princes  scarce  saw  many  more  execu- 
tions, than  the  short  one  of  our  blest  reformer.  And  we 
saw,  and  smelt  in  our  open  streets,  (as  I  marked  to  you 
at  first),  the  broiling  of  human  bowels  as  a  burnt-offer- 
ing of  a  sweet  savour  to  our  idol ;  but  all  murdering,  and 
all  torturing  (though  after  the  subtilest  invention  of  his 
predecessors  of  Sicily),  is  more  humane  and  more  sup- 
portable, than  his  selling  of  Christians,  Englishmen, 
gentlemen;  his  selling  of  them  (oh  monstrous!  oh  in- 
credible!) to  be  slaves  in  America.  If  his  whole  life  could 
be  reproached  with  no  other  action,  yet  this  alone  would 
weigh  down  all  the  multiplicity  of  crimes  in  any  of  our 
tyrants;  and  I  dare  only  touch,  without  stopping  or 
insisting  upon  so  insolent  and  so  execrable  a  cruelty,  for 
fear  of  falling  into  so  violent  (though  a  just)  passion,  as 
would  make  me  exceed  that  temper  and  moderation, 
which  I  resolve  to  observe  in  this  discourse  with  you. 

These  are  great  calamities  ;  but  even  these  are  not  the 
most  insupportable  that  we  have  endured  ;  for  so  it  is, 
that  the  scorn,  and  mockery,  and  insultings  of  an  enemy, 
are  more  painful  than  the  deepest  wounds  of  his  serious 


OF    OLIVER    CROMWELL.  169 

fury.  This  man  was  wanton  and  merry  (unwlttily  and  un- 
gracefully merry)  with  our  sufferings  :  he  loved  to  say  and 
do  senseless  and  fantastical  things,  only  to  shew  his  power 
of  doing  or  saying  any  thing.  It  would  ill  befit  mine,  or 
any  civil  mouth,  to  repeat  those  words  which  he  spoke  con- 
cerning the  most  sacred  of  our  English  laws,  the  Petition 
of  Right,  and  Magna  Charta.''  To-day,  you  should  see  him 
ranting  so  wildly,  that  nobody  durst  come  near  him  ;  the 
morrow,  flinging  of  cushions,  and  playing  at  snow-balls, 
with  his  servants.  This  month,  he  assembles  a  parlia- 
ment, and  professes  himself,  with  humble  tears,  to  be  only 
their  servant  and  their  minister ;  the  next  month,  he 
swears  by  the  living  God,  that  he  will  turn  them  out  of 
doors,  and  he  does  so,  in  his  princely  way  of  threatening, 
bidding  them,  "  Turn  the  buckles  of  their  girdles  be- 
hind them."  The  representative  of  whole,  nay  of  three 
whole  nations,  was,  in  his  esteem,  so  contemptible  a 
meeting,  that  he  thought  the  affronting  and  expelling  of 
them  to  be  a  thing  of  so  little  consequence,  as  not  to 
deserve  that  he  should  advise  with  any  mortal  man 
about  it.  What  shall  we  call  this  ?  boldness,  or  brutish- 
ness  ?  rashness,  or  phrensy  ?  There  is  no  name  can 
come  up  to  it;  and  therefore  we  must  leave  it  without  one. 
Xow,  a  parliament  must  be  chosen  in  the  new  manner, 
next  time  in  the  old  form,  but  all  cashiered  still  after  the 
newest  mode.  !Nowhe  will  govern  by  major-generals,  now 
by  one  house,  now  by  another  house,  now  by  no  house  ; 
now  the  freak  takes  him,  and  he  makes  seventy  peers  of  the 
land  at  one  clap  (extempore^  and  stems  pede  in  uno);  and, 
to  manifest  the  absolute  power  of  the  potter,  he  chooses 
not  only  the  worst  clay  he  could  find,  but  picks  up  even 
the  dirt  and  mire,  to  form  out  of  it  his  vessels  of  honour. 

^^  In  the  case  of  Coney  before  mentioned. 


1 70  ON    THE    GOVERNMENT 

It  was  said  antiently  of  Fortune,  that,  when  she  had  a 
mind  to  be  merry,  and  to  divert  herself,  she  was  wont  to 
raise  up  such  kind  of  people  to  the  highest  dignities. 
This  son  of  Fortune,  Cromwell  (who  was  himself  one  of 
the  primest  of  her  jests),  found  out  the  true  haut-gout  of 
this  pleasure,  and  rejoiced  in  the  extravagance  of  his 
ways,  as  the  fullest  demonstration  of  his  uncontroulable 
sovereignty.  Good  God  !  AVhat  have  we  seen  ?  and 
what  have  we  suffered  ?  what  do  all  these  actions  sig- 
nify ?  what  do  they  say  aloud  to  the  whole  nation,  but 
this,  (even  as  plainly  as  if  it  were  proclaimed  by  heralds 
through  the  streets  of  London),  "  You  are  slaves  and 
fools,  and  so  I  will  use  you !" 

These  are,  briefly,  a  part  of  those  merits  which  you 
lament  to  have  wanted  the  reward  of  more  kingdoms, 
and  suppose  that,  if  he  had  lived  longer,  he  might  have 
had  them  :  which  I  am  so  far  from  concurring  to,  that  I 
believe  his  seasonable  dying  to  have  been  a  greater 
good-fortune  to  him,  than  all  the  victories  and  prosperi- 
ties of  his  life.  For  he  seemed  evidently  (methinks)  to 
be  near  the  end  of  his  deceitful  glories ;  his  own  army 
grew  at  last  as  weary  of  him,  as  the  rest  of  the  people ; 
and  I  never  passed  of  late  before  his  palace  (his,  do  I 
call  it  ?  I  ask  God  and  the  king  pardon),  but  I  never 
passed  of  late  before  Whitehall,  without  reading  upon 
the  gate  of  it,  Mene  Mene,  Tekel  Upharsin}^  But 
it  pleased  God  to  take  him  from  the  ordinary  courts 
of  men,  and  juries  of  his  peers,  to  his  own  high 
court  of  justice  ;  which  being  more  merciful  than  ours 
below,  there  is  a  little  room  yet  left  for  the  hope  of  his 
friends,  if  he  have  any ;  though  the  outward  unrepent- 
ance  of  his  death,  afford  but  small  materials  for  the  work 

18  Dan.  V.  25. 


OF    OLIVER    CROMWELL.  171 

of  charity,  especially  If  he  designed  even  then  to  entail 
his  own  injustice  upon  his  children,  and,  by  it,  inextri- 
cable confusions  and  civil  wars  upon  the  nation.  But 
here's  at  last  an  end  of  him.  And  where's  now  the 
fruit  of  all  that  blood  and  calamity,  which  his  ambition 
has  cost  the  world  ?  Where  is  it  ?  Why,  his  son  (you 
will  say)  has  the  whole  crop ;  I  doubt,  he  will  find  it 
quickly  blasted  ;  I  have  nothing  to  say  against  the  gen- 
tleman,^^ or  any  living  of  his  family  ;  on  the  contrary,  I 
wish  him  better  fortune,  than  to  have  a  long  and  unrpiiet 
possession  of  his  master's  inheritance.  Whatsoever  I 
have  spoken  against  his  father,  Is  that  which  I  should 
have  thought  (though  decency,  perhaps,  might  have 
hindered  me  from  saying  it)  even  against  mine  own.  If 
I  had  been  so  unhappy,  as  that  mine,  by  the  same  ways, 
should  have  left  me  three  kingdoms. 

Here  I  stopt ;  and  my  pretended  protector,  who,  I  ex- 
pected, should  have  been  very  angry,  fell  a  laughing  ;  It 
seems  at  the  simplicity  of  my  discourse,  for  thus  he  re- 
plied :  "  You  seem  to  pretend  extremely  to  the  old 
obsolete  rules  of  virtue  and  conscience,  which  makes  me 
doubt  very  much,  whether,  from  this  vast  prospect  of 
three  kingdoms,  you  can  shew  me  any  acres  of  your 
own.  But  these  are  so  far  from  making  you  a  prince, 
that  I  am  afraid  your  friends  will  never  have  the  con- 
tentment to  see  you  so  much  as  a  justice  of  peace  In 
your  own  country.  For  this,  I  perceive,  which  you 
call  virtue,  is  nothing  else  but  either  the  frowardness 
of  a  Cynic,  or  the  laziness  of  an  Epicurean.  I  am 
glad  you  allow  me  at  least  artful  dissimulation,  and 
unwearied    diligence   in   my  hero  ;  and  I  assure  you, 

'^  A  remarkable  testimony  to  the  blameless  character  of 
Richard  Cromwell. 


172  ON    THE    GOVERNMENT 

that  he,  whose  life  is  c^onstantly  drawn  by  those  two,  shall 
never  be  misled  out  of  the  way  of  greatness.  But  I  see 
you  are  a  pedant,  and  Platonical  statesman,  a  theoretical 
commonwealth's-man,  an  Utopian  dreamer.  Was  ever 
riches  gotten  by  your  golden  mediocrities  ?  or  the 
supreme  place  attained  to  by  virtues  that  must  not  stir 
out  of  the  middle  ?  Do  you  study  Aristotle's  politics,  and 
write,  if  you  please,  comments  upon  them;  and  let 
another  but  practise  Machiavel:  and  let  us  see,  then, 
which  of  you  two  will  come  to  the  greatest  preferments. 
If  the  desire  of  rule  and  superiority  be  a  virtue,  (as  sure 
I  am  it  is  more  imprinted  in  human  nature  than  any  of 
your  lethargical  morals  ;)  and  what  is  the  virtue  of  any 
creature,  but  the  exercise  of  those  powers  and  inclina- 
tions which  God  has  infused  into  it  ?  if  that  (I  say)  be 
virtue,  we  ought  not  to  esteem  any  thing  vice,  which  is 
the  most  proper,  if  not  the  only,  means  of  attaining  of  it : 

IT  is  a  truth  so  certain,  and  so  clear. 

That  to  the  first-born  man  it  did  appear ; 
Did  not  the  mighty  heir,  the  noble  Cain, 

By  the  fresh  laws  of  nature  taught^  disdain 

That  (though  a  brother)  any  one  should  be 

A  greater  favourite  to  God  than  he  ? 

He  strook  him  down  ;  and,  so  (said  he)  so  fell 

The  sheep,  which  thou  didst  sacrifice  so  well. 

Since  all  the  fullest  sheaves,  which  I  could  bring, 

Since  all  were  blasted  in  the  offering. 

Lest  God  should  my  next  victim  too  despise, 

The  acceptable  priest  I'll  sacrifice. 

Hence,  coward  fears ;  for  the  first  blood  so  spilt. 

As  a  reward,  he  the  first  city  built. 

'Twas  a  beginning  generous  and  high, 

Fit  for  a  grand-child  of  the  Deity. 


OF    OLIVER    CROMWELL.  173 

So  well  advanc'd,  'twas  pity  there  he  staid ; 

One  step  of  glory  more  he  should  have  made, 

And  to  the  utmost  bounds  of  greatness  gone; 

Had  Adam  too  been  kill'd,  he  might  have  reign'd  alone. 

One  brother's  death,  what  do  I  mean  to  name, 

A  small  oblation  to  revenge  and  fame  ? 

The  mighty-soul'd  Abimelec,  to  shew 

What  for  a  high  place  a  higher  spirit  can  do, 

A  hecatomb  almost  of  brethren  slew, 

And  seventy  times  in  nearest  blood  he  dy'd 

(To  make  it  hold)  his  royal  purple  pride. 

Why  do  I  name  the  lordly  creature  man  ? 

The  weak,  the  mild,  the  coward  woman,  can, 

When  to  a  crown  she  cuts  her  sacred  way, 

All  that  oppose,  with  manlike  courage,  slay. 

So  Athaliah,  when  she  saw  her  son, 

And  with  his  life  her  dearer  greatness  gone, 

AVith  a  majestic  fury  slaughter'd  all 

Whom  high  birth  might  to  high  pretences  call  : 

Since  he  was  dead  who  all  her  power  sustain'd, 

Eesolv'd  to  reign  alone ;  resolv'd,  and  reign'd. 

In  vain  her  sex,  in  vain  the  laws  withstood, 

In  vain  the  sacred  plea  of  David's  blood  ; 

A  noble,  and  a  bold  contention,  she 

(One  woman)  undertook  with  destiny. 

She  to  pluck  down,  destiny  to  uphold 

(Oblig'd  by  holy  oracles  of  old) 

The  great  Jesseean  race  on  Juda's  throne  ; 

Till  'twas  at  last  an  equal  wager  grown, 

Scarce  fate,  with  much  ado,  the  better  got  by  one. 

Tell  me  not,  she  herself  at  last  was  slain  ; 

Did  she  not,  first,  seven  years  (a  life-time)  reign  ? 

Seven  royal  years  t'a  public  spirit  will  seem 

More  than  the  private  life  of  a  Methusalem. 


174  ON    THE    GOVERNMENT 

'Tis  godlike  to  be  great ;  and,  as  they  say, 

A  thousand  years  to  God  are  but  a  day ; 

So  to  a  man,  when  once  a  crown  he  wears, 

The  coronation  day's  more  than  a  thousand  years." 

He  would  have  gone  on,  I  perceived,  in  his  blasphe- 
mies, but  that,  by  God's  grace,  I  became  so  bold,  as 
thus  to  interrupt  him  :  "  I  understand  now  perfectly 
(which  I  guest  at  long  before)  what  kind  of  angel  and 
protector  you  are ;  and,  though  your  style  in  verse  be 
very  much  mended^"  since  you  were  wont  to  deliver 
oracles,  yet  your  doctrine  is  much  worse  than  ever  you 
had  formerly  (that  I  heard  of)  the  face  to  publish ; 
whether  your  long  practice  with  mankind  has  increased 
and  improved  your  malice,  or  whether  you  think  us  in 
this  age  to  be  grown  so  impudently  Avicked,  that  there 
needs  no  more  art  or  disguises  to  draw  us  to  your 
party." 

"  j\Iy  dominion  (said  he  hastily,  and  with  a  dreadful 
furious  look)  is  so  great  in  this  world,  and  I  am  so 
powerful  a  monarch  of  it,  that  I  need  not  be  ashamed 
that  you  should  know  me  ;  and  that  you  may  see  I  know 
you  too,  I  know  you  to  be  an  obstinate  and  inveterate 
malignant ;  and  for  that  reason  I  shall  take  you  alorg 
with  me  to  the  next  garrison  of  ours ;  from  whence  you 
shall  go  to  the  Tower,  and  from  thence  to  the  court  of 
justice,  and  from  thence  you  know  whither."  I  was 
almost  in  the  very  pounces  of  the  great  bird  of  prey  : 


2°  This  compliment  was  intended, not  so  much  to  the  foregoing 
as  to  the  following  verses,  of  which  the  author  had  reason  to  be 
proud ;  but,  as  being  delivered  in  his  own  person,  could  not  so 
properly  make  the  panegyric. 


OF    OLIVER    CROMWELL.  175 

[HEX,  lo,  ere  the  last  words  were  fullj  spoke, 
W  From  a  fair  cloud,  which  rather  op'd  than  broke, 
A  flash  of  light,  rather  than  lightening,  came, 
So  swift,  and  yet  so  gentle,  was  the  flame. 
Upon  it  rode,  (and,  in  his  full  career, 
Seera'd  to  my  eyes  no  sooner  there,  than  here,) 
The  comeliest  youth  of  all  th'angelic  race ; 
Lovely  his  shape,  ineffable  his  face. 
The  frowns,  with  which  he  strook  the  trembling  fiend, 
All  smiles  of  human  beauty  did  transcend  ; 
His  beams  of  locks  fell  part  dishevel'd  down. 
Part  upwards  curl'd,  and  form'd  a  nat'ral  crown, 
Such  as  the  British  monarchs  us'd  to  wear ; 
If  gold  might  be  compar'd  with  angel's  hair. 
His  coat  and  flowing  mantle  were  so  bright, 
They  seem'd  both  made  of  woven  silver  light : 
Across  his  breast  an  azure  riband  went,"^^ 
At  which  a  medal  hung,  that  did  present 
In  wondrous  living  figures  to  the  sight. 
The  mystic  champion's,  and  old  dragon's  fight ; 
And  from  his  mantle's  side  there  shone  alar, 
A  fix'd,  and,  I  believe,  a  real  star. 
In  his  fair  hand  (what  need  was  there  of  more  ?) 
No  arms,  but  th'English  bloody  cross,  he  bore, 
"Which  when  he  tow'rds  th'afli'ighted  tyrant  bent. 
And  some  few  words  pronounc'd  (but  what  they  meant. 


''  We  must  reflect  that  the  tutelar  genius  of  England  is  here 
introduced,  not  merely  to  unravel  the  intricacy  of  the  scene,  but 
to  form  a  striking  contrast  to  the  foal  Jiend  who  had  usurped 
his  place ;  and  still  further  to  disgrace  the  usurper  by  a  portrait 
of  the  rightful  heir  to  the  British  crown,  presented  to  us  under 
an  angelic  form,  and  in  all  the  force  and  beauty  of  poetic 
colouring. 


176  GOVERNMENT    OF    CROMWELL. 

Or  were,  could  not,  alas,  by  me  be  known, 
Only,  I  well  perceiv'd,  Jesus  was  one) 
He  trembled,  and  he  roar'd,  and  fled  away; 
j\lad  to  quit  thus  his  more  than  hop'd-for  prey. 

Such  rage  inflames  the  wolf's  wild  heart  and  eyes 
(Robb'd,  as  he  thinks,  unjustly  of  his  prize) 
'Whom  unawares  the  shepherd  spies,  and  draws 
The  bleating  lamb  from  out  his  ravenous  jaws  : 
The  shepherd  fain  himself  would  he  assail, 
But  fear  above  his  hunger  does  prevail, 
He  knows  his  foe  too  strong,  and  must  be  gone  : 
He  grins,  as  he  looks  back,  and  howls,  as  he  goes  on. 


THE   AUTHOE'S  PEEFACE   TO   CUTTER 
OF   COLEMAX   STEEET. 


COMEDY,  called  The  Guardian,  and  made 
by  me  when  I  was  very  young,  was  acted 
formerly  at  Cambridge ;  and  several  times 
after,  privately,  during  the  troubles,  as  I  am 
told,  with  good  approbation,  as  it  has  been  lately  too  at 
Dublin.  There  being  many  things  in  it  which  I  dis- 
liked, and  finding  myself  for  some  days  idle,  and  alone 
in  the  country,  I  fell  upon  the  changing  of  it  almost 
wholly,  as  now  it  is,  and  as  it  was  played  since  at  his 
Royal  Highness's  theatre,  under  this  new  name.  It  met 
at  the  first  representation  with  no  favourable  reception  ; 
and  I  think  there  was  something  of  faction  against  it, 
by  the  early  appearance  of  some  men's  disapprobation 
before  they  had  seen  enough  of  it  to  build  their  dislike 
upon  their  judgment.  Afterwards  it  got  some  ground, 
and  found  friends,  as  well  as  adversaries.  In  which 
condition  I  should  willingly  let  it  die,  if  the  main  impu- 
tation under  which  it  sufi^ered  had  been  shot  only  against 
my  wit  or  art  in  these  matters,  and  not  directed  against 
the  tenderest  parts  of  human  reputation,  good- nature, 
good-manners,  and  piety  itself. 


1 78  PREFACE    TO 

The  first  clamour,  which  some  malicious  persons 
raised,  and  made  a  great  noise  with,  was,  that  it  was  a 
piece  intended  for  abuse  and  satire  against  the  King's 
party.  Good  God!  against  the  King's  party?  After 
having  served  it  twenty  years,  during  all  the  time  of 
their  misfortunes  and  afflictions,  I  must  be  a  very  rash 
and  imprudent  person,  if  I  chose  out  that  of  their  resti- 
tution to  begin  a  quarrel  with  them.  I  must  be  too 
much  a  madman  to  be  trusted  with  such  an  edged  tool 
as  comedy.  But  first,  why  should  either  the  whole 
party  (as  it  was  once  distinguished  by  that  name,  which 
I  hope  is  abolished  now  by  universal  loyalty),  or  any 
man  of  virtue  or  honour  in  it,  believe  themselves  injured, 
or  at  all  concerned,  by  the  representation  of  the  faults 
and  follies  of  a  few,  who,  in  the  general  division  of  the 
nation,  had  crouded  in  among  them  ?  In  all  mixed 
numbers  (which  is  the  case  of  parties),  nay,  in  the  most 
entire  and  continued  bodies,  there  are  often  some  de- 
generated and  corrupted  parts,  which  may  be  cast  away 
from  that,  and  even  cut  off  from  this  unity,  without  any 
infection  of  scandal  to  the  remaining  body.  The  church 
of  Rome,  with  all  her  arrogance,  and  her  wide  pretences 
of  certainty  in  all  truths,  and  exemption  from  all  errors, 
does  not  clap  on  this  enchanted  armour  of  infallibility 
upon  all  her  particular  subjects,  nor  is  offended  at  the 
reproof  of  her  greatest  doctors.  We  are  not,  I  hope, 
become  such  Puritans  ourselves,  as  to  assume  the  name 
of  the  congregation  of  the  spotless.  It  is  hard  for  any 
party  to  be  so  ill  as  that  no  good,  impossible  to  be  so 
good  as  that  no  ill,  should  be  found  among  them.  And 
it  has  been  the  perpetual  privilege  of  satire  and  comedy, 
to  pluck  their  vices  and  follies,  though  not  their  persons, 
out  of  the  sanctuary  of  any  title.  A  cowardly  ranting 
soldier,  an  ignorant  charlatanical  doctor,  a  foolish  cheat- 


CUTTER    OF   COLEMAN   STREET.  179 

ing  lawyer,  a  silly  pedantical  scholar,  have  always  been, 
and  still  are,  the  principal  subjects  of  all  comedies, 
without  any  scandal  given  to  those  honourable  profes- 
sions, or  even  taken  by  their  severest  professors.  And, 
if  any  good  physician  or  divine  should  be  offended  with 
me  here,  for  inveighing  against  a  quack,  or  for  finding 
Deacon  Soaker  too  often  in  the  butteries,  my  respect 
and  reverence  to  their  callings  would  make  me  troubled 
at  their  displeasure,  but  I  could  not  abstain  from  taking 
them  for  very  choleric  and  quarrelsome  persons.  What 
does  this  therefore  amount  to,  if  it  were  true  which  is 
objected  ?  But  it  is  far  from  being  so  ;  for  the  represen- 
tation of  two  sharks  about  the  town  (fellows  merry  and 
ingenious  enough,  and  therefore  admitted  into  better 
companies  than  they  deserve,  yet  withal  two  very  scoun- 
drels, which  is  no  unfrequent  character  at  London),  the 
representation,  I  say,  of  these  as  pretended  officers  of 
the  Royal  army,  was  made  for  no  other  purpose  but  to 
show  the  world,  that  the  vices  and  extravagances  im- 
puted vulgarly  to  the  cavaliers,  were  really  committed 
by  aliens,  who  only  usurped  that  name,  and  endeavoured 
to  cover  the  reproach  of  their  indigency,  or  infamy  of 
their  actions,  with  so  honourable  a  title.  So  that  the 
business  was  not  here  to  correct  or  cut  off  any  natural 
branches,  though  never  so  corrupted  or  luxuriant,  but 
to  separate  and  cast  away  that  vermin,  which,  by  stick- 
ing so  close  to  them,  had  done  great  and  considerable 
prejudice  both  to  the  beauty  and  fertility  of  the  tree  ; 
and  this  is  plainly  said,  and  as  often  inculcated,  as  if  one 
should  write  round  about  a  sign,  This  is  a  dog,  This  is 
a  dog,  out  of  over-much  caution  lest  some  might  happen 
to  mistake  it  for  a  lion. 

Therefore,  when   this   calumny   could  not  hold  (for 
the  case  is  clear,  and  will  take  no  colour,)  some  others 


i8o  PREFACE    TO 

sought  out  a  subtler  hint,  to  traduce  me  upon  the  same 
score  ;  and  were  angry,  that  the  person  whom  I  made  a 
true  gentleman,  and  one  both  of  considerable  quality 
and  sufferings  in  the  royal  party,  should  not  have  a  fair 
and  noble  character  throughout,  but  should  submit,  in 
his  great  extremities,  to  wrong  his  niece  for  his  own 
relief.  This  is  a  refined  exception,  such  as  I  little  fore- 
saw, nor  should,  with  the  dulness  of  my  usual  charity, 
have  found  out  against  another  man  in  twenty  years. 
The  truth  is,  I  did  not  intend  the  character  of  a  hero, 
one  of  exemplary  virtue,  and,  as  Homer  often  terms  such 
men,  unblameable,  but  an  ordinary  jovial  gentleman, 
commonly  called  a  good-fellow,  one  not  so  conscientious 
as  to  starve  rather  than  do  the  least  injury,  and  yet  en- 
dowed with  so  much  sense  of  honour,  as  to  refuse,  when 
that  necessity  was  removed,  the  gain  of  five  thousand 
pounds,  which  he  might  have  taken  from  his  niece  by 
the  rigour  of  a  forfeiture  :  and  let  the  frankness  of  this 
latter  generosity  so  expiate  for  the  former  frailty,  as 
may  make  us  not  ashamed  of  his  company ;  for,  if  his 
true  metal  is  but  equal  to  his  allay,  it  will  not  indeed 
render  him  one  of  the  finest  sort  of  men,  but  it  will 
make  him  current,  for  aught  I  know,  in  any  party  that 
ever  yet  was  in  the  world.  If  you  be  to  chuse  parts  for 
a  comedy  out  of  any  noble  or  elevated  rank  of  persons, 
the  most  proper  for  that  work  are  the  worst  of  that 
kind.  Comedy  is  humble  of  her  nature,  and  has  always 
been  bred  low,  so  that  she  knows  not  how  to  behave 
herself  with  the  great  and  accomplished.  She  does  not 
pretend  to  the  brisk  and  bold  qualities  of  wine,  but  to 
the  stomachal  acidity  of  vinegar ;  and  therefore  is  best 
placed  among  that  sort  of  people  which  the  Romans  call 
The  lees  of  Romulus.  If  I  had  designed  here  the  cele- 
bration of  the  virtues  of  our  friends,  I  would  have  made 


CUTTER    OF    COLEMAN   STREET.  i8i 

the  scene  nobler  where  I  intended  to  erect  their  statues. 
They  should  have  stood  in  odes  and  tragedies,  and  epic 
poems  (neither  have  I  totally  omitted  those  great  testi- 
monies of  my  esteem  of  them) — "  Sed  nunc  non  erat  his 
locus,"  &c. 

And  so  much  for  this  little  spiny  objection,  which  a 
man  cannot  see  without  a  magnifying-glass.  The  next 
is  enough  to  knock  a  man  down,  and  accuses  me  of  no 
less  than  profaneness.  Profane,  to  deride  the  hypocrisy 
of  those  men  whose  skulls  are  not  yet  bare  upon  the 
gates  since  the  public  and  just  punishment  of  it  ?  But 
there  is  some  imitation  of  Scripture-phrases  :  God  for- 
bid !  there  is  no  representation  of  the  true  face  of 
Scripture,  but  only  of  that  vizard  which  these  hypocrites 
(that  is,  by  interpretation,  actors  with  a  vizard)  draw 
upon  it.  Is  it  profane  to  speak  of  Harrison's  return  to 
life  again,  when  some  of  his  friends  really  professed  their 
belief  of  it,  and  he  himself  had  been  said  to  promise  it  ? 
A  man  may  be  so  imprudently  scrupulous  as  to  find 
profaneness  in  any  thing,  either  said  or  written,  by  apply- 
ing it  under  some  similitude  or  other  to  some  expres- 
sions in  Scripture.  This  nicety  is  both  vain  and  end- 
less. But  I  call  God  to  witness,  that,  rather  than  one 
tittle  should  remain  among  all  my  writings,  which,  ac- 
cording to  my  severest  judgment,  should  be  found 
guilty  of  the  crime  objected,  I  would  myself  burn  and 
extinguish  them  all  together.  Nothing  is  so  detestably 
lewd  and  wretchless  as  the  derision  of  things  sacred ; 
and  would  be  in  me  more  unpardonable  than  any  man 
else,  who  have  endeavoured  to  root  out  the  ordinary 
weeds  of  poetry,  and  to  plant  it  almost  wholly  with 
divinity.  I  am  so  far  from  allowing  any  loose  or  ir- 
reverent expressions,  in  matters  of  that  religion  which  I 
believe,  that  I  am  very  tender  in  this  point,  even  for  the 


1 82  PREFACE    TO 

grossest  errors  of  conscientious  persons  ;  they  are  the 
properest  object  (metbinks)  both  of  our  pity  and  charity 
too  :  they  are  the  innocent  and  white  sectaries,  in  com- 
parison of  another  kind,  who  engraft  pride  upon  ig- 
norance, tyranny  upon  liberty,  and  upon  all  their 
heresies,  treason  and  rebellion.  These  are  principles 
so  destructive  to  the  peace  and  society  of  mankind,  that 
they  deserve  to  be  pursued  by  our  serious  hatred ;  and 
the  putting  a  mask  of  sanctity  upon  such  devils,  is  so 
ridiculous,  that  it  ought  to  be  exposed  to  contempt  and 
laughter.  They  are  indeed  profane,  who  counterfeit 
the  softness  of  the  voice  of  holiness,  to  disguise  the 
roughness  of  the  hands  of  impiety  ;  and  not  they,  who, 
with  reverence  to  the  thing  which  others  dissemble,  de- 
ride nothing  but  their  dissimulation.  If  some  piece  of 
an  admirable  artist  should  be  ill  copied,  even  to  ridi- 
culousness, by  an  ignorant  hand ;  and  another  painter 
should  undertake  to  draw  that  copy,  and  make  it  yet 
more  ridiculous,  to  shew  apparently  the  difference  of 
the  two  works,  and  deformity  of  the  latter ;  will  not 
every  man  see  plainly,  that  the  abuse  is  intended  to  the 
foolish  imitation,  and  not  to  the  excellent  original  ?  I 
might  say  much  more,  to  confute  and  confound  this  very 
false  and  malicious  accusation ;  but  this  is  enough,  I 
hope,  to  clear  the  matter,  and  is,  I  am  afraid,  too 
much  for  a  preface  to  a  work  of  so  little  considera- 
tion. 

As  for  all  other  objections,  which  have  been  or  may 
be  made  against  the  invention  or  elocution,  or  any  thing 
else  which  comes  under  the  critical  jurisdiction  ;  let  it 
stand  or  fall  as  it  can  answer  for  itself,  for  I  do  not  lay 
the  great  stress  of  my  reputation  upon  a  structure  of 
this  nature,  much  less  upon  the  slight  reparations  only 
of  an  old  and  unfashionable  building.   There  is  no  writer 


CUTTER    OF    COLEMAN    STREET.  183 

but  may  fail  sometimes  in  point  of  wit ;  and  it  is  no  less 
frequent  for  the  auditors  to  fail  in  point  of  judgment.  I 
perceive  plainly,  by  daily  experience,  that  Fortune  is 
mistress  of  the  theatre,  as  TuUy  says  it  is  of  all  popular 
assemblies.  Xo  man  can  tell  sometimes  from  whence 
the  invisible  winds  rise  that  move  them.  There  are  a 
multitude  of  people,  who  are  truly  and  only  spectators 
at  a  play,  without  any  use  of  their  understanding ;  and 
these  carry  it  sometimes  by  the  strength  of  their  num- 
bers. There  are  others,  who  use  their  understandings 
too  much  ;  who  think  it  a  sign  of  weakness  and  stupidity, 
to  let  any  thing  pass  by  them  unattacked,  and  that  the 
honour  of  their  judgments  (as  some  brutals  imagine  of 
their  courage)  consists  in  quarrelling  with  every  thing. 
AVe  are  therefore  wonderful  wise  men,  and  have  a  fine 
business  of  it,  we,  who  spend  our  time  in  poetry  :  I  do 
sometimes  laugh,  and  am  often  angry  with  myself,  when 
I  think  on  it ;  and  if  I  had  a  son  inclined  by  nature  to 
the  same  folly,  I  believe  I  should  bind  him  from  it,  by 
the  strictest  conjurations  of  a  paternal  blessing.  For 
what  can  be  more  ridiculous,  than  to  labour  to  give  men 
delight,  whilst  they  labour,  on  their  part,  more  earnestly 
to  take  offence  ?  To  expose  one's  self  voluntarily  and 
frankly  to  all  the  dangers  of  that  narrow  passage  to  un- 
profitable fame,  which  is  defended  by  rude  multitudes 
of  the  ignorant,  and  by  armed  troops  of  the  malicious  ? 
If  we  do  ill,  many  discover  it,  and  all  despise  us ;  if  we 
do  well,  but  few  men  find  it  out,  and  fewer  entertain  it 
kindly.  If  we  commit  errors,  there  is  no  pardon  ;  if  we 
could  do  wonders,  there  would  be  but  little  thanks,  and 
that,  too,  extorted  from  unwilling  givers. 

But  some  perhaps  may  say,  Was  it  not  always  thus  ? 
do  you  expect  a  particular  privilege,  that  was  never  yet 
enjoyed  by  any  poet  ?  were  the  ancient  Grecian  or  noble 


1 84  PREFACE,    ETC. 

Roman  authors,  was  Virgil  liimself,  exempt  from  this 
possibility : 

Qui  melior  multis,  quam  tu,  fuit,  improbe,  rebus ; 

who  was,  in  many  things,  thy  better  far,  thou  impudent 
pretender  ?  as  was  said  by  Lucretius  to  a  person,  who 
took  it  ill  that  he  was  to  die,  though  he  had  seen  so 
many  do  it  before  him,  who  better  deserved  immortality ; 
and  this  is  to  repine  at  the  natural  condition  of  a  living 
poet,  as  he  did  at  that  of  a  living  mortal.  I  do  not 
only  acknowledge  the  pre-eminence  of  Virgil  (whose 
footsteps  I  adore),  but  submit  to  many  of  his  Roman 
brethren ;  and  I  confess,  that  even  they,  in  their  own 
times,  were  not  so  secure  from  the  assaults  of  detraction 
(though  Horace  brags  at  last. 

Jam  dente  minus  mordeor  invido ;) 

but  then  the  barkings  of  a  few  were  drowned  in  the 
applause  of  all  the  rest  of  the  world,  and  the  poison  of 
their  bitings  extinguished  by  the  antidote  of  great 
rewards  and  great  encouragements,  which  is  a  way  of 
curing  now  out  of  use  ;  and  I  really  profess,  that  I 
neither  expect,  nor  think  I  deserve  it.  Indolency 
would  serve  my  turn  instead  of  pleasure  :  but  the  case 
is  not  so  well ;  for,  though  I  comfort  myself  with  some 
assurance  of  the  favour  and  affection  of  very  many 
candid  and  good-natured  (and  yet  too,  judicious  and 
even  critical)  persons  ;  yet  this  I  do  affirm,  that  from 
all  which  I  have  written  I  never  received  the  least 
benefit,  or  the  least  advantage,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
have  felt  sometimes  the  effects  of  malice  and  misfortune. 


A    PROPOSITION    FOR    THE   ADVANTEMENT 
OF   EXPERIMENTAL   PHILOSOPHY. 


The   College. 

I  HAT   the  philosophical  college  be  situated 

within  one,  two,  or  (at  farthest)  three  miles 

of  London  ;  and,  if  it  be  possible  to  find  that 

convenience,  upon  the  side  of  the  river,  or 

very  near  it. 

That  the  revenue  of  this  coUege  amount  to  four  thou- 
sand pounds  a  year. 

That  the  company  received  into  it  be  as  follows  : 
1.  Twenty  philosophers  or  professors.  2.  Sixteen 
young  scholar?,  servants  to  the  professors.  3.  A  chap- 
lain. 4.  A  bailiff  for  the  revenue.  5.  A  manciple  or 
purveyor  for  the  provisions  of  the  house.  6.  Two  gar- 
deners. 7.  A  mastercook.  8.  An  under-cook.  9.  A 
butler.  10.  An  under-butler.  IL  A  surgeon.  12.  Two 
lungs,  or  chemical  servants.  13.  A  library-keeper,  who 
is  likewise  to  be  apothecary,  druggist,  and  keeper  of 
instruments,  engines,  &c.  14.  An  officer,  to  feed  and 
take  care  of  all  beasts,  fowl,  &c.  kept  by  the  college. 
15.  A  groom  of  the  stable.  16.  A  messenger,  to  send 
up  and  down  for  all  uses  of  the  college.     17.  Four  old 


1 86  THE   ADVANCEMENT   OF 

women,  to  tend  the  chambers,  keep  the  house  clean,  and 
such  like  services. 

That  the  annual  allowance  for  this  company  be  as 
follows  :  1.  To  every  professor,  and  to  the  chaplain, 
one  hundred  and  twenty  pounds.  2.  To  the  sixteen 
scholars  twenty  pounds  apiece,  ten  pounds  for  their 
diet,  and  ten  pounds  for  their  entertainment.  3.  To  the 
bailiff,  thirty  pounds,  besides  allowance  for  his  journies. 
4.  To  the  purveyor,  or  manciple,  thirty  pounds.  5.  To 
each  of  the  gardeners,  twenty  pounds.  G.  To  the  mas- 
ter-cook, twenty  pounds.  7.  To  the  under-cook,  four 
pounds.  8.  To  the  butler,  ten  pounds.  9.  To  the 
under-butler,  four  pounds.  10.  To  the  surgeon,  thirty 
pounds.  11.  To  the  library-keeper,  thirty  pounds. 
12.  To  each  of  the  lungs,  twelve  pounds.  13.  To  the 
keeper  of  the  beasts,  six  pounds.  14.  To  the  groom, 
five  pounds.  15.  To  the  messenger,  twelve  pounds. 
16.  To  the  four  necessary  women,  ten  pounds.  For  the 
manciples'  table  at  which  all  the  servants  of  the  house 
are  to  eat,  except  the  scholars,  one  hundred  and  sixty 
pounds.  For  three  horses  for  the  service  of  the  college, 
thirty  pounds. 

All  which  amounts  to  three  thousand  two  hundred 
eighty-five  pounds.  So  that  there  remains,  for  keeping 
of  the  house  and  gardens,  and  operatories,  and  instru- 
ments, and  animals,  and  experiments  of  all  sorts,  and  all 
other  expenses,  seven  hundred  and  fifteen  pounds. 

Which  were  a  very  inconsiderable  sum  for  the  great 
uses  to  which  it  is  designed,  but  that  I  conceive  the 
industry  of  the  college  will,  in  a  short  time,  so  enrich 
itself,  as  to  get  a  far  better  stock  for  the  advance  and 
enlargement  of  the  work  when  it  is  once  begun  :  neither 
is  the  continuance  of  particular  men's  liberality  to  be 
despaired  of,  when  it  shall  be  encouraged  by  the  sight  of 


EXPERIMENTAL    PHILOSOPHY.  187 

that  public  benefit  which  will  accrue  to  all  mankind, 
and  chiefly  to  our  nation,  by  this  foundation.  Some- 
thing likewise  will  arise  from  leases  and  other  casualties: 
that  nothing  of  which  may  be  diverted  to  the  private 
gain  of  the  professors,  or  any  other  use  besides  that  of 
the  search  of  nature,  and  by  it  the  general  good  of  the 
world,  and  that  care  may  be  taken  for  the  certain  per- 
formance of  all  things  ordained  by  the  institution,  as 
likewise  for  the  protection  and  encouragement  of  the 
company,  it  is  proposed  : 

That  some  person  of  eminent  quality,  a  lover  of  solid 
learning,  and  no  stranger  in  it,  be  chosen  chancellor  or 
president  of  the  college  ;  and  that  eight  governors  more, 
men  qualified  in  the  like  manner,  be  joined  with  him, 
two  of  which  shall  yearly  be  appointed  visitors  of  the 
college,  and  receive  an  exact  account  of  all  expenses 
even  to  the  smallest,  and  of  the  true  estate  of  their 
public  treasure,  under  the  hands  and  oaths  of  the  pro- 
fessors resident. 

That  the  choice  of  professors  in  any  vacancy  belong 
to  the  chancellor  and  the  governors ;  but  that  the  pro- 
fessors (who  are  likeliest  to  know  what  men  of  the  nation 
are  most  proper  for  the  duties  of  their  society)  direct 
their  choice,  by  recommending  two  or  three  persons  to 
them  at  every  election :  and  that,  if  any  learned  person 
within  his  majesty's  dominions  discover,  or  eminently 
improve,  any  useful  kind  of  knowledge,  he  may  upon 
that  ground,  for  his  reward  and  the  encouragement  of 
others,  be  preferred,  if  he  pretend  to  the  place,  before 
any  body  else. 

That  the  governors  have  power  to  turn  out  any  pro- 
fessor, who  shall  be  proved  to  be  either  scandalous  or 
unprofitable  to  the  society. 

That  the  college  be  built  after  this,  or  some  such 


i?8  THE  ADVANCEMENT   OF 

manner:  That  It  consist  of  three  fair  quadrangular 
courts,  and  three  large  grounds,  inclosed  with  good  walls 
behind  them.  That  the  first  court  be  built  with  a  fair 
cloister :  and  the  professors'  lodgings,  or  rather  little 
houses,  four  on  each  side,  at  some  distance  from  one 
another,  and  with  little  gardens  behind  them,  just  after 
the  manner  of  the  Chartreux  beyond  sea.  That  the  in- 
side of  the  cloister  be  lined  with  a  gravel-walk,  and  that 
walk  with  a  row  of  trees ;  and  that  in  the  middle  there 
be  a  parterre  of  flowers,  and  a  fountain. 

That  the  second  quadrangle,  just  behind  the  first,  be 
so  contrived,  as  to  contain  these  parts.  1.  A  chapel.  2. 
A  hall,  with  two  long  tables  on  each  side,  for  the  scholars 
and  officers  of  the  house  to  eat  at,  and  with  a  pulpit  and 
forms  at  the  end  for  the  public  lectures.  3.  A  large 
and  pleasant  dining-room  within  the  hall,  for  the  pro- 
fessors to  eat  in,  and  to  hold  their  assemblies  and  con- 
ferences. 4.  A  public  school-house.  5.  A  library.  6. 
A  gallery  to  walk  in,  adorned  with  the  pictures  or  statues 
of  all  the  inventors  of  any  thing  useful  to  human  life; 
as,  printing,  guns,  America,  &c.  and  of  late  in  anatomy, 
the  circulation  of  the  blood,  the  milky  veins,  and  such 
like  discoveries  in  any  art,  with  short  eulogies  under  the 
portraitures  :  as  likewise  the  figures  of  all  sorts  of  crea- 
tures, and  the  stuft  skins  of  as  many  strange  animals  as 
can  be  gotten.  7.  An  an  atomy -chamber,  adorned  with 
skeletons  and  anatomical  pictures,  and  prepared  with 
all  conveniences  for  dissection.  8.  A  chamber  for  all 
manner  of  drugs,  and  apothecaries'  materials.  9.  A  ma- 
thematical chamber,  furnished  with  all  sorts  of  mathe- 
matical instruments,  being  an  appendix  to  the  library. 
10.  Lodgings  for  the  chaplain,  surgeon,  library-keeper, 
and  purveyor,  near  the  chapel,  anatomy-chamber,  library, 
and  hall. 


1^  EXPERIMENTAL    PHILOSOPHY.  189 

W  That  the  third  court  be  on  one  side  of  these,  very 
large,  but  meanly  built,  being  designed  only  for  use, 
and  not  for  beauty,  too,  as  the  others.  That  it  contain 
the  kitchen,  butteries,  brew-house,  bake-house,  dairy, 
lardry,  stables,  &c.  and  especially  great  laboratories 
for  chemical  operations,  and  lodgings  for  the  under- 
servants. 

That  behind  the  second  court  be  placed  the  garden, 
containing  all  sorts  of  plants  that  our  soil  will  bear ;  and 
at  the  end  a  little  house  of  pleasure,  a  lodge  for  the 
gardener,  and  a  grove  of  trees  cut  out  into  walks. 

That  the  second  inclosed  ground  be  a  garden,  des- 
tined only  to  the  trial  of  all  manner  of  experiments 
concerning  plants,  as  their  melioration,  acceleration, 
retardation,  conservation,  composition,  transmutation, 
coloration,  or  whatsoever  else  can  be  produced  by  art 
either  for  use  or  curiosity,  with  a  lodge  in  it  for  the 
gardener. 

That  the  third  ground  be  employed  in  convenient  re- 
ceptacles for  all  sorts  of  creatures  which  the  professors 
shall  judge  necessary,  for  their  more  exact  search  into 
the  nature  of  animals,  and  the  improvement  of  their 
uses  to  us. 

That  there  be  likewise  built,  in  some  place  of  the 
college  where  it  may  serve  most  for  ornament  of  the 
whole,  a  very  high  tower  for  observation  of  celestial 
bodies,  adorned  with  all  sorts  of  dials  and  such  like 

k curiosities ;  and  that  there  be  very  deep  vaults  made 
under  ground,  for  experiments  most  proper  to  such 
places,  which  will  be,  undoubtedly,  very  many. 
Much  might  be  added ;  but  truly  I  am  afraid  this  is 
itoo  much  already  for  the  charity  or  generosity  of  this 
age  to  extend  to ;  and  we  do  not  design  this  after  the 
model  of  Solomon's  house  in  my  Lord  Bacon  (which  is 


190  THE   ADVANCEMENT   OF 

a  project  for  experiments  that  can  never  be  experi- 
mented), but  propose  it  within  such  bounds  of  expense 
as  have  often  been  exceeded  by  the  buildings  of  private 
citizens. 


Of  the   Professors,    Scholars,   Chaplain, 
and   other   officers. 

That  of  the  twenty  professors,  four  be  always  travelling 
beyond  the  seas,  and  sixteen  always  resident,  unless  by 
permission  upon  extraordinary  occasions  ;  and  every  one 
so  absent,  leaving  a  deputy  behind  him  to  supply  his 
duties. 

That  the  four  professors  itinerant  be  assigned  to  the 
four  parts  of  the  world,  Europe,  Asia,  Africa,  and  Ame- 
rica, there  to  reside  three  years  at  least ;  and  to  give 
a  constant  account  of  all  things  that  belong  to  the 
learning,  and  especially  natural  experimental  philosophy, 
of  those  parts. 

That  the  expense  of  all  dispatches,  and  all  books, 
simples,  animals,  stones,  metals,  minerals,  &c.  and  all 
cui'iosities  Avhatsoever,  natural  or  artificial,  sent  by 
them  to  the  college,  shall  be  defrayed  out  of  the  trea- 
sury, and  an  additional  allowance  (above  the  £120.) 
made  to  them  as  soon  as  the  college's  revenue  shall  be 
improved. 

That,  at  their  going  abroad,  they  shall  take  a  solemn 
oath,  never  to  write  any  thing  to  the  college,  but  what, 
after  very  diligent  examination,  they  shall  fully  believe 
to  be  true,  and  to  confess  and  recant  it  as  soon  as  they 
find  themselves  in  an  error. 

That  the  sixteen  professors  resident  shall  be  bound 
to  study  and  teach  all  sorts  of  natural  experimental 
philosophy,  to  consist  of  the  mathematics,  mechanics, 


EXPERIMENTAL   PHILOSOPHY.  191 

medicine,  anatomy,  chemistry,  the  history  of  animals, 
plants,  minerals,  elements,  &c. ;  aj^riculture,  architec- 
ture, art  military,  navigation,  gardening ;  the  mysteries 
of  all  trades,  and  improvement  of  them ;  the  fucture  of 
all  merchandizes,  all  natural  magic  or  divination ;  and 
briefly  ail  things  contained  in  the  catalogue  of  natural 
histories  annexed  to  my  Lord  Bacon's  Organon. 

That  once  a  day  from  Easter  till  ^Michaelmas,  and 
twice  a  week  from  Michaelmas  to  Easter,  at  the  hours 
in  the  afternoon  most  convenient  for  auditors  from  Lon- 
don, according  to  the  time  of  the  year,  there  shall  be  a 
lecture  read  in  the  hall,  upon  such  parts  of  natural  ex- 
perimental philosophy,  as  the  professors  shall  agree  on 
among  themselves,  and  as  each  of  them  shall  be  able  to 
perform  usefully  and  honourably. 

That  two  of  the  professors,  by  daily,  weekly,  or 
monthly  turns,  shall  teach  the  public  schools,  according 
to  the  rules  hereafter  prescribed. 

That  all  the  professors  shall  be  equal  in  all  respects 
(except  precedency,  choice  of  lodging,  and  such  like 
privileges,  which  shall  belong  to  seniority  in  the  col- 
lege) ;  and  that  all  shall  be  masters  and  treasurers  by 
annual  turns,  which  two  ofiicers  for  the  time  being  shall 
take  place  of  all  the  rest,  and  shall  be  arhitri  duarum 
mensarum. 

That  the  master  shall  command  all  the  officers  of  the 
college,  appoint  assemblies  or  conferences  upon  occasion, 
and  preside  in  them  with  a  double  voice;  and  in  his  ab- 
sence, the  treasurer,  whose  business  is  to  receive  and 
disburse  all  monies  by  the  master's  order  in  writing  (if 
it  be  an  extraordinary),  after  consent  of  the  other  pro- 
fessors. 

That  all  the  professors  shall  sup  together  in  the  par- 
lour within  the  hall  every  night,  and  shall  dine  there 


192  THE    ADVANCEMENT    OF 

twice  a  week  (to  wit,  Sundays  and  Thursdays)  at  two 
round  tables,  for  the  convenience  of  discourse,  which 
shall  be,  for  the  most  part,  of  such  matters  as  may  im- 
prove their  studies  and  professions ;  and  to  keep  them 
from  falling  into  loose  or  unprofitable  talk,  shall  be  the 
duty  of  the  tv/o  arhitri  ?nensurimi,  who  may  likewise  com- 
mand any  of  the  servant-scholars  to  read  to  them  what 
they  shall  think  fit,  whilst  they  are  at  table:  that  it  shall 
belong,  likewise,  to  the  said  arbitt^i  memarum  only,  to  in- 
vite strangers;  which  they  shall  rarely  do,  unless  they  be 
men  of  learning  or  great  parts,  and  shall  not  invite  above 
two  at  a  time  to  one  table,  nothing  being  more  vain  and 
unfruitful  than  numerous  meetings  of  acquaintance. 

That  the  professors  resident  shall  allow  the  college 
twenty  pounds  a  year  for  their  diet,  whether  they  con- 
tinue there  all  the  time  or  not. 

That  they  shall  have  once  a  week  an  assembly,  or  con- 
ference, concerning  the  aifairs  of  the  college  and  the 
progress  of  their  experimental  philosophy. 

That,  if  any  one  find  out  anything  which  he  conceives 
to  be  of  consequence,  he  shall  communicate  it  to  the  as- 
sembly, to  be  examined,  experimented,  approved,  or  re- 
jected. 

That,  if  any  one  be  author  of  an  invention,  that  may 
bring  in  profit,  the  third  part  of  it  shall  belong  to  the  in- 
ventor, and  the  two  other  to  the  society ;  and  besides,  if 
the  thing  be  very  considerable,  his  statue  or  picture, 
with  an  eulogy  under  it,  shall  be  placed  in  the  gallery, 
and  made  a  denizen  of  that  corporation  of  famous  men. 

That  all  the  professors  shall  be  always  assigned  to 
some  particular  inquisition  (besides  the  ordinary  course 
of  their  studies),  of  which  they  shall  give  an  account  to 
the  assembly ;  so  that  by  this  means  there  may  be  every 
day  some  operation  or  other  made  in  all  the  arts,  as  che- 


EXPERIMENTAL    PHILOSOPHY.  193 

mistry,  anatomy,  mechanics,  and  the  like ;  and  that  the 
college  shall  furnish  for  the  charge  of  the  operation. 

That  there  shall  be  kept  a  register  under  lock  and  key, 
and  not  to  be  seen  but  by  the  professors,  of  all  the  ex- 
periments that  succeed,  signed  by  the  persons  who  made 
the  trial. 

That  the  popular  and  received  errors  in  experimental 
philosophy  (with  which,  like  weeds  in  a  neglected  gar- 
den, it  is  now  almost  all  over-grown)  shall  be  evinced  by 
trial,  and  taken  notice  of  in  the  public  lectures,  that  they 
may  no  longer  abuse  the  credulous,  and  beget  new  ones 
by  consequence  or  similitude. 

That  every  third  year  (after  the  full  settlement  of  the 
foundation)  the  college  shall  give  an  account  in  print,  in 
proper  and  ancient  Latin,  of  the  fruits  of  their  triennial 
industry. 

That  every  professor  resident  shall  have  his  scholar' 
to  wait  upon  him  in  his  chamber  and  at  table ;  whom  he 
shall  be  obliged  to  breed  up  in  natural  philosophy,  and 
render  an  account  of  his  progress  to  the  assembly,  from 
whose  election  he  received  him,  and  therefore  is  respon- 
sible to  it,  both  for  the  care  of  his  education  and  the  just 
and  civil  usage  of  him. 

That  the  scholar  shall  understand  Latin  very  well,  and 
be  moderately  initiated  in  the  Greek,  before  he  be  cap- 
able of  being  chosen  into  the  service ;  and  that  he  shall 
not  remain  in  it  above  seven  years. 

That  his  lodging  shall  be  with  the  professor  whom  he 
serves. 

That  no  professor  shall  be  a  married  man,  or  a  divine, 

or  lawyer  in  practice ;  only  physic  he  may  be  allowed  to 

prescribe,  because  the  study  of  that  art  is  a  great  part 

of  the  duty  of  his  place,  and  the  duty  of  that  is  so  great, 

o 


194  THE   ADVANCEMENT   OF 

that  it  will  not  suffer  liim  to  lose  much  time  in  merce- 
nary practice. 

That  the  professors  shall,  in  the  college,  wear  the 
habit  of  ordinary  masters  of  art  in  the  universities,  or  of 
doctors,  if  any  of  them  be  so. 

That  they  shall  all  keep  an  inviolable  and  exemplary 
friendship  with  one  another ;  and  that  the  assembly  shall 
lay  a  considerable  pecuniary  mulct  upon  any  one  who 
shall  be  proved  to  have  entered  so  far  into  a  quarrel  as 
to  give  uncivil  language  to  his  brother-professor ;  and 
that  the  perseverance  in  any  enmity  shall  be  punished 
by  the  governors  with  expulsion. 

That  the  chaplain  shall  eat  at  the  master's  table  (pay- 
ing his  twenty  pounds  a  year  as  the  others  do);  and 
that  he  shall  read  prayers  once  a  day  at  least,  a  little 
before  supper-time ;  that  he  shall  preach  in  the  chapel 
every  Sunday  morning,  and  catechize  in  the  afternoon 
the  scholars  and  the  school-boys;  that  he  shall  every 
month  administer  the  holy  sacrament ;  that  he  shall  not 
trouble  himself  and  his  auditors  with  the  controversies 
of  divinity,  but  only  teach  God  in  his  just  command- 
ments, and  in  his  wonderful  works. 

The   School. 

That  the  school  may  be  built  so  as  to  contain  about 
two  hundred  boys. 

That  it  be  divided  into  four  clashes,  not  as  others  are 
ordinarily  into  six  or  seven;  because  we  suppose  that 
the  children  sent  hither,  to  be  initiated  in  things  as  well 
as  words,  ought  to  have  past  the  two  or  three  first,  and 
to  have  attained  the  age  of  about  thirteen  years,  being 
already  well  advanced  in  the  Latin  grammar,  and  some 
authors. 


I 


EXPERIMENTAL    PHILOSOPHY.  195 

That  none,  though  never  so  rich,  shall  pay  any  thing 
for  their  teaching;  and  that,  if  any  professor  shall  be 
convicted  to  have  taken  any  money  in  consideration  of 
his  pains  in  the  school,  he  shall  be  expelled  with  igno- 
miny by  the  governors ;  but  if  any  persons  of  great 
estate  and  quality,  finding  their  sons  much  better  pro- 
ficients in  learning  here,  than  boys  of  the  same  aire 
commonly  are  at  other  schools,  shall  not  think  fit  to 
receive  an  obligation  of  so  near  concernment  without 
returning  some  marks  of  acknowledgment,  they  may,  if 
they  please,  (for  nothing  is  to  be  demanded)  bestow 
some  little  rarity  or  curiosity  upon  the  society,  in  recom- 
pense of  their  trouble. 

And  because  it  is  deplorable  to  consider  the  loss 
which  children  make  of  their  time  at  most  schools,  em- 
ploying, or  rather  casting  away,  six  or  seven  years  in 
the  learning  of  words  only,  and  that  too  very  imper- 
fectly : — 

That  a  method  be  here  established,  for  the  infusing 
knowledge  and  language  at  the  same  time  into  them; 
and  that  this  may  be  their  apprenticeship  in  natural  phi- 
losophy. This,  we  conceive,  may  be  done,  by  breeding 
them  up  in  authors,  or  pieces  of  authors,  who  treat  of 
some  parts  of  nature,  and  who  may  be  understood  with 
as  much  ease  and  pleasure,  as  those  which  are  commonly 
taught ;  such  are,  in  Latin,  Varro,  Cato,  Columella, 
Pliny,  part  of  Celsus  and  of  Seneca,  Cicero  de  Divina- 
tione,  de  Xatura  Deorum,  and  several  scattered  pieces, 
Virgil's  Georgics,  Grotius,  Nemesianus,  Manilius:  And 
because  the  truth  is,  we  want  good  poets  (I  mean  we 
have  but  few),  who  have  purposely  treated  of  solid  and 
learned,  that  is,  natural  matters  (the  most  part  indulg- 
ing to  the  weakness  of  the  world,  and  feeding  it  either 
with  the  follies  of  love,  or  with  the  fables  of  gods  and 


196  THE   ADVANCE3IENT    OF 

heroes),  we  conceive  that  one  book  ought  to  be  compiled 
of  all  the  scattered  little  parcels  among  the  ancient  poets 
that  might  serve  for  the  advancement  of  natural  science 
and  which  would  make  no  small  or  unuseful  or  un- 
pleasant volume.  To  this  we  would  have  added  the 
morals  and  rhetorics  of  Cicero,  and  the  institutions  of 
Quinctilian;  and  for  the  comedians,  from  whom  almost 
all  that  necessary  part  of  common  discourse,  and  all  the 
most  intimate  proprieties  of  the  language,  are  drawn, 
we  conceive,  the  boys  may  be  made  masters  of  them,  as 
a  part  of  their  recreation,  and  not  of  their  task,  if  once  a 
month,  or  at  least  once  in  two,  they  act  one  of  Terence's 
Comedies,  and  afterwards  (the  most  advanced)  some  of 
Plautus's ;  and  this  is  for  many  reasons  one  of  the  best 
exercises  they  can  be  enjoined,  and  most  innocent  plea- 
sures they  can  be  allowed.  As  for  the  Greek  authors, 
they  may  study  Nicander,  Oppianus  (whom  Scaliger 
does  not  doubt  to  prefer  above  Homer  himself,  and 
place  next  to  his  adored  Virgil),  Aristotle's  history  of 
animals  and  other  parts,  Theophrastus  and  Dioscorides 
of  plants,  and  a  collection  made  out  of  several  both  poets 
and  other  Grecian  writers.  For  the  morals  and  rhetoric, 
Aristotle  may  suffice,  or  Hermogenes  and  Longinus  be 
added  for  the  latter.  With  the  history  of  animals  they 
should  be  shewed  anatomy  as  a  divertisement,  and  made 
to  know  the  figures  and  natures  of  those  creatures 
which  are  not  common  among  us,  disabusing  them  at 
the  same  time  of  those  errors  which  are  universally  ad- 
mitted concerning  many.  The  same  method  should  be 
used  to  make  them  acquainted  with  all  plants ;  and  to 
this  must  be  added  a  little  of  the  ancient  and  modern 
geography,  the  understanding  of  the  globes,  and  the 
principles  of  geometry  and  astronomy.  They  should 
likewise  use  to  declaim  in  Latin  and  English,  as  the 


EXPERUIEyTAL    PHILOSOPHY.  197 

Romans  did  m  Greek  and  Latin ;  and  in  all  this  travel 
be  rather  led  on  by  familiarity,  encouragement,  and 
emulation,  than  driven  by  severity,  punishment,  and 
terror.  Upon  festivals  and  play-times,  they  should  ex- 
ercise themselves  in  the  fields,  by  riding,  leaping,  fencing, 
mustering,  and  training  after  the  manner  of  soldiers,  &c. 
And,  to  prevent  all  dangers  and  all  disorder,  there  should 
always  be  two  of  the  scholars  with  them,  to  be  as  wit- 
nesses and  directors  of  their  actions  ;  in  foul  weather,  it 
would  not  be  amiss  for  them  to  learn  to  dance,  that  is, 
to  learn  just  so  much  (for  all  beyond  is  supertiuous,  if 
not  worse)  as  may  give  them  a  graceful  comportment  of 
their  bodies. 

Upon  Sundays,  and  all  days  of  devotion,  they  are  to 
be  a  part  of  the  chaplain's  province. 

That,  for  all  these  ends,  the  college  so  order  it,  as 
that  there  may  be  some  convenient  and  pleasant  houses 
thereabouts,  kept  by  religious,  discreet,  and  careful  per- 
sons, for  the  lodging  and  boarding  of  young  scholars  ; 
that  they  have  a  constant  eye  over  them,  to  see  that 
they  be  bred  up  there  piously,  cleanly,  and  plentifully, 
according  to  the  proportion  of  the  parents'  expenses. 

And  that  the  college,  when  it  shall  please  God,  either 
by  their  own  industry  and  success,  or  by  the  benevo- 
lence of  patrons,  to  enrich  them  so  far,  as  that  it  may 
come  to  their  turn  and  duty  to  be  charitable  to  others, 
shall,  at  their  own  charges,  erect  and  maintain  some 
house  or  houses  for  the  entertainment  of  such  poor  men's 
sons,  whose  good  natural  parts  may  promise  either  use 
or  ornament  to  the  commonwealth,  during  the  time  of 
their  abode  at  school ;  and  shall  take  care  that  it  shall 
be  done  with  the  same  conveniences  as  are  enjoyed  even 
by  rich  men's  children  (though  they  maintain  the  fewer 
for  that  cause),  there  being  nothing  of  eminent  and 


198  THE   ADVANCEMENT   OF 

illustrious  to  be  expected  from  a  low,  sordid,  and  hos- 
pital-like education. 

Conclusion. 

If  I  be  not  much  abused  by  a  natural  fondness  to  my 
own  conceptions  (that  aropyi]  of  the  Greeks,  which  no 
other  language  has  a  proper  word  for),  there  was  never 
any  project  thought  upon,  which  deserves  to  meet  with 
so  few  adversaries  as  this ;  for  who  can,  without  impu- 
dent folly,  oppose  the  establishment  of  twenty  well- 
selected  persons  in  such  a  condition  of  life,  that  their 
whole  business  and  sole  profession  may  be  to  study  the 
improvement  and  advantage  of  all  other  professions, 
from  that  of  the  highest  general  even  to  the  lowest 
artisan  ?  who  shall  be  obliged  to  employ  their  whole 
time,  wit,  learning,  and  industry,  to  these  four,  the  most 
useful  that  can  be  imagined,  and  to  no  other  ends ;  first, 
to  weigh,  examine,  and  prove  all  things  of  nature  deli- 
vered to  us  by  former  ages ;  to  detect,  explode,  and 
strike  a  censure  through  all  false  monies  with  which  the 
world  has  been  paid  and  cheated  so  long ;  and  (as  I  may 
say)  to  set  the  mark  of  the  college  upon  all  true  coins, 
that  they  may  pass  hereafter  without  any  farther  trial : 
secondly,  to  recover  the  lost  inventions,  and,  as  it  were, 
drowned  lands  of  the  ancients :  thirdly,  to  improve  all 
arts  which  we  now  have ;  and  lastly,  to  discover  others 
which  we  yet  have  not :  and  who  shall  besides  all  this 
(as  a  benefit  by  the  bye),  give  the  best  education  in  the 
world  (purely  gratis)  to  as  many  men's  children  as  shall 
think  fit  to  make  use  of  the  obligation  ?  Neither  does 
it  at  all  check  or  interfere  with  any  parties  in  state  or 
religion ;  but  is  indifferently  to  be  embraced  by  all 
differences   in   opinion,  and  can  hardly  be   conceived 


I 


EXPERIMENTAL    PHILOSOPHY.  199 

capable  (as  manj  good  institutions  have  done)  even  of 
degeneration  into  any  thing  harmful.  So  that,  all  things 
considered,  I  will  suppose  this  proposition  shall  en- 
counter with  no  enemies :  the  only  question  is,  whether 
it  will  find  friends  enough  to  carry  it  on  from  discourse 
and  design  to  reality  and  effect ;  the  necessary  expenses 
of  the  beginning  (for  it  will  maintain  itself  well  enough 
afterwards)  being  so  great  (though  I  have  set  them  as 
low  as  is  possible  in  order  to  so  vast  a  work),  tliat  it 
may  seem  hopeless  to  raise  such  a  sum  out  of  those  few 
dead  relicks  of  human  charity  and  public  generosity 
which  are  yet  remaining  in  the  world. 


THE    END. 


CHI3W1CK    FllESS:— PRINTED    BY    WHITTINGHAM    AND  WILKINS, 
TOOKS   COURT,   CHANCERY    LANE. 


a  lLi0t  of  HBoofeis 

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readers.  16mo.  bound  flexible  in  cloth  extra,  gilt  edges,  with 
silk  head  bands  and  registers. 

Each  Volume,  complete  in  itself,  price  Half-a-crown. 

THE    STORY    OF   THE    CHEVALIER    BAYARD.     From 
the  French  of  the  Loyal  Servant,  JNI.  de  Berville,  and  others.     By  E. 
Walford.     With  Introduction  and  Notes  by  the  Editor. 
"  Praise  of  him  must  walk  the  earth 
For  ever,  and  to  noble  deeds  give  birth. 
This  is  the  happy  warrior;  this  is  he 
That  every  man  in  arms  would  wish  to  be." — Wordsicorth. 

SAINT  LOUIS,  KING  OF  FRANCE.  The  curious  and 
characteristic  Life  of  this  Monarch  by  De  Joinville.  Translated  by 
James  Hutton. 

"  iS^.  Louis  and  his  companions,  as  described  by  Joinville,  not  only  in 
their  glistening  armour,  but  in  their  every-day  attire,  are  brought  nearer 
to  us,  become  intelligible  to  v^,  and  teach  tis  lessons  of  humanity  which  we 
can  learn  from  men  only,  and  not  from  saints  and  heroes.  Here  lies  the 
real  value  of  real  history.  It  ividens  our  minds  and  our  hearts,  and  gives 
us  that  true  knowledge  of  the  world  and  of  human  nature  in  all  its  phases 
which  but  few  can  gain  in  the  short  span  of  their  own  life,  and  in  the  nar- 
row sphere  of  their  friends  and  enemies.  We  can  hardly  imagine  a  better 
book  for  boys  to  read  or  for  men  to  ponder  over." — Times. 

THE  ESSAYS  OF  ABRAHAi\[  COWLEY.     Comprising  all 

his  Prose  Works ;  the  Celebrated  Character  of  Cromwell,  Cutter  of  Cole- 
man Street,  &c.  &c.    With  Life,  Notes,  and  Illustrations. 

"  Praised  in  his  day  as  a  great  Poet ;  the  head  of  the  school  of  poets 
called  metaphysical,  he  is  now  chiefly  known  by  those  prose  essays,  ail  too 
short,  and  all  too  few,  which,  ichetherfor  thought  or  for  erpressioti,  have 
rarely  been  excelled  by  any  icriter  in  any  language." — Mary  Russell 
Mitford's  Recollections. 

ABDALLAH   AND   THE  FOUR-LEAVED   SHAMROCK. 

By  Edouard  Laboullaye,  of  the  French  Academy.     Translated  by  Mary 
L.  Booth. 

One  of  the  noblest  and  purest  French  stories  ever  wntten. 


List  of  Publications. 


The  Bayard  Series, — 

TABLE-TALK   AND   OPINIONS   OF  NAPOLEON   THE 

FIRST. 

A  compUntion  from  the  bext  sources  of  this  great  man's  shreicd  and 
often  prophetic  thoughts,  forming  the  best  inner  life  of  the  most  extraordi- 
nnry  man  of  modern  times. 

THE  KING  AND  THE  COMMONS :    Cavalier  and  Puritan 

Poems.     S^eleeted  and  Arranged  by  Henry  Morley,  Professor  of  Litera- 
ture, Loudon  University. 

*»*  /t  icas  in  tcorking  on  this  volume  that  Mr.  Morley  discovered  the 
New  Poem  attributed  to  jlilton.  A  facsimile  of  the  Poem  and  Signature 
J.  or  P.  M.,  with  parallel  passages,  and  the  ichole  of  the  evidence,  pro 
a)id  con,  is  given  t>i  the  prefatory  matter. 

VATHEK.     An  Oriental  Romance.     By  William  Beckford. 

"  Beckford' s  '  Vathek'  is  here  presented  as  one  of  the  beautifully  got- 
up  works  included  in  Messrs.  Low  and  Co.'s  '  Bayard  Series,'  every  one 
ofichich  is  a  gem,  and  the  '  Caliph  I'athek'  is,  perhaps,  the  gem  of  the 
collection." — Illustrated  Times. 

WORDS  OF  WELLINGTON.  Maxims  and  Opinions,  Sen- 
tences and  Reflections,  of  the  Great  Duke,  gathered  from  his  Des-patches, 
Letters  and  Speeches.  Printed  at  the  Chiswick  Press,  on  toned  paper, 
cloth  extra,  price  2s.  6d. 

"  One  of  the  best  books  that  could  be  put  into  the  hands  of  a  youth  to 
influence  him  for  good." — Notes  aud  Queries. 

RASSELAS,  PRINCE  OF  ABYSSINIA.     By  Dr.  Johnson. 

With  Introduction  by  the  Rev.  William  West,  B.A. 

"  We  are  glad  to  icelcome  a  reprint  of  a  little  book  which  a  great  master 
of  English  prose  once  said,  '  icill  claim  perhaps  the  first  place  in  English 
composition  for  a  model  of  grave  and  majestic  language.'  It  contains  so 
many  grave  inaxims,  so  many  hints  as  to  the  conduct  of  life,  and  so  much 
vigorous  and  suggestive  thought,  and  shrewd  insight  into  the  follies  and 
frailties,  the  greatness  and  weakness  of  human  nature,  that  it  is  Just  one 
of  those  books  ichich,  like  '  Bacon's  Essays,'  we  read  again  aiui  again  with 
ever-increasing  profit  and  pleasure.''' — Examiner. 


"  '  The  Bayard  Series '  is  a  perfect  marvel  of  cheapness  and  of  exquisite 
taste  in  the  binding  and  getting  up.  We  hope  and  believe  that  these 
delicate  morsels  of  choice  literature  icill  be  ividely  and  gratefully  wel- 
comed."— Nonconformist  "  Every  one  of  the  icorks  included  in  this  series 
is  icellicorth  possessing,  and  the  ichole  icill  make  an  admirable  foundation 
for  the  library  of  a  studious  youth  of  polished  and  refined  tastes." — 
Illustrated  Times.  "  We  have  here  two  more  volumes  of  the  series  ap- 
propriately called  the  *•  Bayard,'  as  they  certainly  are  '  sayis  reproche.' 
Of  convenient  size,  with  clear  typography,  and  tasteful  binding,  tee  know 
no  other  little  volumes  ichich  make  such  good  gift  books  for  persons  of 
mature  age." — Examiner.  "  If  the  publishers  go  on  as  they  have  begun, 
they  will  have  furnished  us  with  one  of  the  most  valuable  and  attractive 
series  of  books  that  have  ever  been  issued  from  the  press." — Sunday  Times. 
*'  There  has,  perhaps,  never  been  produced  anything  more  admirable,  either 
as  regards  matter  or  manner." — Oxford  Times. 


Sampson  Low  and  CoJs 


The  Gentle  Life  Series. 

Frinted  in  Elzevir,  on  Toned  Paper,  and  handsomely  bound, 
forming  suitable  Volumes  for  Presents. 

Price  6s.  each;  or  in  calf  extra,  price  10s.  6d. 

I. 

THE  GENTLE  LIFE.     Essays  in  Aid  of  the  Formation  of 

Character  of  Gentlemen  and  Gentlewomen.     Ninth  Edition. 

"  His  notion  of  a  gentleman  is  of  the  noblest  and  truest  order.  The 
volume  is  a  capital  specimen  of  ichat  may  be  done  by  honest  reason, 
high  feeling,  and  cidtivated  intellect.  A  little  compendium  of  cheer  fid 
■philosophy." — Daily  News.  "  Deserves  to  be  printed  in  letters  of  gold, 
and  circulated  m  ei-ery  house." — Chambers's  Journal.  "  The  writer's 
object  is  to  teach  people  to  be  truthful,  sincere,  generous:  to  be  humble- 
minded,  but  bold  in  thought  and  action."  -Spectator.  "  It  ii  with  the  more 
satisfaction  that  tee  meet  xvith  a  new  essayist  icho  delights  without  the 
smallest  pedantry  to  quote  the  choicest  wisdom  of  our  forefathers,  and 
who  abides  by  those  old-fashioned  Christiaii  ideas  of  duty  which  Steele  and 
Addison,  wits  and  men  of  the  world,  were  not  ashamed  to  set  before  the 
young  Englishmen  of  1713." — London  Review. 

II. 

ABOUT  IN  THE  WORLD.     Essays  by  the  Author  of  <*  The 

Gentle  Life." 

"  It  is  not  easy  to  open  it  at  any  page  icithout  finding  some  happy  idea." 
Morning  Post.  '•  Another  characteristic  merit  of  these  essays  is.  that  they 
make  it  their  business,  gently  hut  firmly,  to  apply  the  qualifications  and  the 
corrections,  ichich  all  philanthropic  theories,  all  general  rules  or  maxims,  or 
principles,  stand  in  need  of  before  you  can  make  them  work." — Literary 
Churchman, 

III. 
LIKE  UNTO  CHRIST.     A  new  translation  of  the  "De  Imita- 
tione  Christi,"  usually  ascribed  to  Thomas  k  Kempis.     "With  a  Vignette 
from  an  Original  Drawing  by  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence.     Second  Edition. 

"  Think  of  the  little  tcork  of  Thomas  a  Kempis,  translated  into  a  hundred 
languages,  and  sold  by  millions  of  copies,  and  ichich,  in  inmost  moments 
of  deep  thought,  men  make  the  guide  of  their  hearts,  and  the  friend  of 
their  closets." — Archbishop  of  York,  at  the  Literary  Fund,  18(^5. 

"  Evinces  independent  scholarship,  a  profound  feeling  for  the  original. 
and  a  minute  attention  to  delicate  shades  of  expression,  which  may  icell 
make  it  acceptable  even  to  those  who  can  enjoy  the  work  icithout  a  trans- 
lator's aid." — Nonconformist.  "  Coidd  not  be  pjresented  in  a  more  exquisite 
form,  for  a  more  sightly  volume  icas  never  seen." — Illustrated  London 
News.  "  The  preliminary  essay  is  well-written,  good,  and  interesting ." — 
Saturday  Review. 


List  of  Publications. 


IV. 

FAMILIAR    WORDS,      An  Index  Verborum,  or  Quotaticn 

Handbook.  Aflording  an  immediate  Referenf-e  to  Phrases  and  Sentences 
that  have  become  embedded  in  the  English  language.  Second  and  en- 
larged Edition. 

"  Should  he  on  every  library  table,  by  the  side  of '  Fogefs  Theanurux.' ' 
— Daily  News.  ''Almost  every  familinr  quotation  is  to  be  fvund,  in  this 
icork,  which  forms  a  book  of  reference  absolutely  indispensable  to  the  lite- 
rary man,  and  of  interest  and  service  to  the  pub! ir  generally.  Mr.  FrisiveU 
has  our  best  thanks  for  his  'painstaking,  laborious,  and  conscientious 
work." — City  Press, 

V. 

ESSAYS  BY  MONTAIGNE.  Edited,  Compared,  Revised, and 
Annotated  by  the  Author  of  "  The  Gentle  Life."  With  Vignette  Portrait. 
Second  Edition. 

"  We  should  be  glad  if  any  icords  of  ours  coidd  help  to  bespeak  a  large 
circulation  for  this  handsome  attractive  book ;  and  who  can  refuse  his 
homage  to  the  good-humoured  industry  of  the  editor." — Illustrated  Times. 
"  The  reader  really  gets  in  a  compact  form  all  of  the  charming,  chatty 
Montaigne  that  he  needs  to  know." — Observer.  "  ThL^  edition  is  pure  of 
questionable  matter,  and  its  perusal  is  calculated  to  enrich  icithout  cor- 
rupting the  mind  of  the  reader." — Daily  News. 

VI. 

THE  COUNTESS  OF  PEMBROKE'S  ARCADIA.     Written 

by  Sir  Philip  Sidney.  Edited,  with  Notes.by  the  Author  of"  The  Gentle 
Life."     Dedicated,  by  permission,  to  the  Earl  of  Derby.     7s.  6d. 

"  AH  the  best  things  in  the  Arcadia  are  retained  intact  in  Mr.  Frisicell's 
edition,  and  even  brought  into  greater  prominence  than  in  the  original,  by 
the  curtailment  of  some  of  its  inferior  portions,  and  the  omission  of  most  of 
its  eclogues  and  other  metrical  digressions  " — Examiner.  "  It  teas  in  itself 
a  thing  so  interesting  as  a  development  of  English  literature,  that  we  are 
thankful  to  Mr.  Friswell  for  reproducing ,  in  a  very  elegant  volume,  the 
chief  work  of  the  gallant  and  chivalrous,  the  gay  yet  learned  knight,  who 
patronized  the  muse  of  Spenser,  and  fell  upon  the  bloody  field  of  Zidphen, 
leaving  behind  him  a  light  of  heroism  and  humane  compassion  which  icould 
shed  an  eternal  glory  on  his  name,  though  all  he  ever  wrote  had  perished 
with  himself." — London  Review. 

VII. 
THE  GENTLE  LIFE.     Second  Series,     Third  Edition. 

"  TTiere  is  the  same  mingled  power  and  simplicity  tvhich  makes  the 
aidhor  so  emphatically  a  first-rate  essayist,  giving  a  fascination  in  each 
essay  ivhich  icill  make  this  volume  at  least  as  popular  as  its  elder  brother." 
—Star.  "  These  essays  are  amongst  the  best  in  our  language."— Vnhhc 
Opinion. 

VIII. 

VARIA  :  Readings  from  Rare  Books.  Reprinted,  by  permis- 
sion, from  the  Saturday  H/view,  Spectator,  &c. 

"  The  books  discussed  in  this  volume  are  no  less  valuable  than  they  are 
rare,  bid  life  is  not  long  enmigh  to  allow  a  reader  to  wade  through  such 
thick  folios,  and  therefore  the  compiler  is  entitled  to  the  gratitude  of  the 
public  for  having  sf ted  their  contents,  and  thereby  rendered  their  treasures 
available  to  the  general  reader." — Observer. 


Sampson  Low  and  Co's. 


IX. 
A  CONCORDANCE  OR  VEHBAL  INDEX  to  the  whole  of 

Milton's   Poetical   Works.     Comprising  upwards  of  20,000   References. 
By  Charles  D.  Cleveland,  LL.D.     With  Vignette  Portrait  of  2»iiltou. 

*»*  This  work  affords  an  immediate  reference  to  any  passage  in  any 
edition  of  Milton's  Poems,  to  which  it  may  be  justly  termed  an  indis- 
pensable Appendix. 

"  Bi/  the  admirers  of  Milton  the  book  icill  he  highly  appreciated,  but  it.t 
chief  value  will,  if  ice  mistake  not,  be  fvimd  in  the  fad  that  it  is  a  compact 
■word-hook  of  the  English  language." — Record.  "  An  invaluable  Index, 
ivhich  the  publishers  have  done  a  public  service  in  reprinting." — Notes  and 
Queries. 

X. 

THE    SILENT  HOUR :  Essays,  Ori.^inal  and    Selected.     By 

the  Author  of  "  The  Gentle  Life."     Second  Edition. 

"  Out  of  ticenty  Essays  five  are  from  the  Editor's  pen,  and  he  has  se- 
lected the  rest  from  the  icritings  of  Barroiv,  Baxter,  Sherlock,  Massillon^ 
Latimer,  Sandys,  Jeremy  Taylor,  Buskin,  and  Izaac  Walton.  The  se- 
lections have  been  made  icith  taste  and  judgment,  and  the  Editor's  oicn 
contributions  are  not  vnicorthy  in  themselves  of  a  place  in  such  dis- 
tinguished company.  The  volume  is  avowedly  meant  'for  Sunday  reading, 
and  those  loho  have  not  access  to  the  originals  of  great  authors  may  do 
worse  on  Sunday  or  any  other  afternoon,  than  fall  bark  upon  the  '  Silent 
Hour'  and  the  golden  words  of  Jeremy  Taylor  and  jlJassil/on.  All  tcho 
possess  the  '  Gentle  Life'  should  own  this  volume." — Standard. 

XI. 

ESSAYS   ON  ENGLISH   WRITERS,  for  the  Self-improve- 
ment  of  Students  in  English  Literature. 

"  The  author  has  a  distinct  purpose  and  a  piroper  and  noble  ambition  to 
uin  the  young  to  the  pure  and  noble  study  of  our  glorious  English  literature. 
The  book  is  too  good  intrinsically  not  to  command  a  icide  and  increasing 
circulation,  and  its  style  is  so  pleasant  and  lively  that  it  icill  find  many 
readers  aynong  the  educated  classes,  as  well  as  among  self-helpers.  To  all 
(both  men  and  women)  who  have  neglected  to  read  and  .^tudy  their  native 
literature  we  would  certainly  suggest  the  vobime  before  us  as  a  fitting  m- 
troduction" — Examiner. 

XII. 

OTHER    PEOPLE'S    WINDOWS.      By   J.  Hain  Eriswell. 

Second  Edition. 

"  7'Ae  old  project  of  a  xcindoic  in  the  bosom  to  render  the  soul  of  man 
visible,  is  what  every  honest  fellow  has  a  manifold  reason  to  wish 
for."— Fore's  Letters,  Dec.  12,  1718. 

"  The  chapters  are  so  lively  in  themselves,  so  mingled  with  shrewd  views 
of  human  nature,  so  full  of  illustrative  anecdotes,  that  the  reader  cannot 
fail  to  be  amused.  Written  icith  remarkable  power  and  effect.  '  Other 
People's  Windaivs '  is  distinguished  by  original  and  keen  observation  of 
life,  as  well  as  by  lively  and  versatile  power  of  narration." — Morning  Post. 
"  We  have  not  read  a  cleverer  or  more  entertaining  book  for  a  long  time." 
Observer.  "  Some  of  the  little  stories  are  very  graceful  and  tender,  but 
Mr.  Friswell's  style  is  always  bright  and  pleasant,  and  '  Other  People's 
Windoivs '  is  fust  the  book  to  lie  upon  the  drawing-room  table,  and  he  read 
by  snatches  at  idle  moments." — Guardian. 


List  of  Publications, 


WORKS     OF      REFERENCE,    ETC. 

^^HE  Origin  and  History  of  the  Erglish  Language,  and 

"'  ^  of  the  eai-ly  literature  it  embodies,  liy  the  Hon.  George  P. 
Marsh.  U.  S.  Minister  at  Turin,  Author  of  "  Lectures  on  the 
English  Language."    8vo.  cloth  extra,  16s. 

Lectures  on  the  English  Language;  forming  the  Introductory 

Series  to  the  foregoing  Work.     By  the  same  Author.     8vo.     Cloth,  16i. 
This  is  the  only  author's  edition. 

Man  and  Nature ;  or,  Physical  Geography  as  Modified  by  Human 
Action.  By  George  P.  Marsh,  Author  of  "  Lectures  on  the  English  Lan- 
guage," &c.     8yo.  cloth,  14s. 

"  Mr.  Marsh,  icell  known  as  the  author  of  two  of  the  most  scholarly 
works  yet  ipuhlished  on  the  English  latigunge,  sets  himself  in  excellent 
spirit,  and  icith  immense  learning,  to  indicate  the  character,  and,  approxi- 
mately, the  extent  of  the  changes  produced  by  human  action  in  the  physical 
condition  of  the  globe  xee  inhabit.  The  ichole  of  Mr.  Marsh's  book  is  an 
eloquent  showing  of  the  duty  of  care  in  the  establishment  of  harmony 
between  man's  life  and  the  forces  of  nature,  so  as  to  bring  to  their  highest 
points  the  fertility  of  the  soil,  the  vigour  of  the  animal  life,  ajid  the  salubrity 
of  the  climate,  on  which  ice  have  to  depend  for  the  physical  well-being  of 
nuinkind." — Examiner. 

Her  Majesty's  ]Mails :  a  History  of  the  Post  Office,  and  an 
Industrial  Account  of  its  Present  Condition.  By  Wm.  Lewins,  of  the 
General  Post  Office.  2nd  Edition,  revised  and  enlarged,  with  a  Photo- 
graphic Portrait  of  Sir  Rowland  Hill.     Small  post  Svo.  <os. 

A  History  of  Banks  for  Savings  ;  including  a  full  account  of  the 
origin  and  progress  of  IMr.  Gladstone's  recent  prudential  measures.  By 
William  Lewins,  Author  of  '*  Her  Majesty's  Mails."     8vo.  cloth.     12.9. 

The  English  Catalogue  of  Books  :  giving  the  date  of  publication 
of  every  book  published  from  18y.5  to  1863,  in  addition  to  the  title,  size, 
price,  and  publisher,  in  one  alphabet.  An  entirely  new  work,  combining 
the  Copyrights  of  the  "  London  Catalogue"  and  the  "  British  Catalogue." 
One  thick  volume  of  90(<  pages,  half  morocco,  4.5s. 
*»*  The  Annual  Catalogue  of  Books  published  during  1868  with  Index 
of  Subjects.     Svo.     bs. 

Index  to  the  Subjects  of  Books  published  in  the  United  Kingdom 
during  the  last  Twenty  Years — 1837-1857.  Containing  as  many  as  74.000 
references,  under  subjects,  so  as  to  ensure  immediate  reference  to  the 
books  on  the  subject  required,  each  giving  title,  price,  publisher,  and 
date.  Two  valuable  Appendices  are  also  given — A.  containing  full  lists 
of  all  Libraries.  Collections,  Series,  and  Miscellanies— and  B.  a  List  of 
Literary  Societies,  Printing  Societies,  and  their  Issues.  One  vol.  royal 
Svo.      Morocco,  1/.  &s. 

*jf*  Volume  II.  from  1857  in  Preparation. 

Outlines  of  "Moral  Philosophy.  By  Dugald  Stewart.  Professor 
of  IMoral  Philosophy  in  the  L'niversity  of  Edinburgh,  with  Memoir,  &c. 
By  James  McCosh,  LL.D.     New  Edition,  12mo.  3s.  6(i. 


10  Sampson  Low  and  Co.^s 

A  Dictionary  of  Photography,  on  the  Basis  of  Sutton's  Dictionary. 

Rewritten  by  Professor  Dawson,  of  King's  College.  Editor  of  the  "  Journal 
of  Photography ;"  and  Thomas  Suttoa,  B.A.,  Editor  of  "Photograph 
Notes."     8vo.  with  numerous  Illustrations.     8s.  6d. 

Dr.  Worcester's  New  and  Greatly  Enlaro^ed  Dictionary  of  the 

English  Language.  Adapted  for  Library  or  College  Reference,  compris- 
ing 40,000  Words  more  than  Johnson's  Dictionary.  4to.  cloth,  1,834  pp. 
price  31s.  6d.  well  bound. 

"  The  volumes  before  us  show  a  vast  amount  of  diligence;  but  with 
Webster  it  is  diligence  in  combination  with  fancifulness, — w^ith  Wor- 
cester in  comhinution  with  good  sense  and  judgment.  Worcester's  is  the 
soberer  and  safer  book,  and  maybe  pronounced  the  best  existing  English 
Lexicon." — AtheruEuin. 

The  Publishers'  Circular,  and  General  Eecord  of  British  and 

Foreign  Literature;  giving  a  transcript  of  the  title-page  of  every  work 
published  in  Great  Britain,  and  every  work  of  interest  published  abroad, 
with  lists  of  all  the  publishing  houses. 

Published  regularly  on  the  1st  and  loth  of  every  Month,  and  forwarded 
post  free  to  all  parts  of  the  world  on  payment  of  8s.  per  annum. 

A  Handbook  to  the  Charities  of  London.      By  Sampson  Low, 

Jun.  Comprising  an  Account  of  upwards  of  800  Institutions  chiefly  in 
London  and  its  Vicinity.  A  Guide  to  the  Benevolent  and  to  the  Unfor- 
tunate.    Cloth  limp.  Is.  'od. 

Prince  Albert's  Golden  Precepts.  Second  Edition,  with  Photo- 
graph. A  INIemorial  of  the  Prince  Consort;  comprising  INIaxims  and 
Extracts  from  Addresses  of  His  late  Royal  Highness.  INIany  now  for 
the  first  time  collected  and  carefully  arranged.  With  an  Index.  Royal 
16mo.  beautifully  printed  on  toned  paper,  cloth,  gilt  edges,  2s.  6d. 

Our  Little  Ones  in  Heaven:  Thoughts  in  Prose  and  Verse,  se- 
lected from  the  Writings  of  favourite  Authors;  with  Frontispiece  after 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds.   "Fcap.  8vo.  cloth  extra.     Second  Edition.     3s.  6d. 


BIOGRAPHY,    TRAVEL,   AND    ADVENTURE. 

^^f^-^^HE  Life  of  John  James  Audubon,  the  Naturalist,  in- 
!-'S!\i  r^/"  eluding  his  Romantic  Adventures  in  the  back  woods  of 
^^Jl^^  America,  Correspondence  with  celebrated  Europeans,  &c. 
:Oy  v^jvi  Edited,  from  materials  supplied  by  his  widow,  by  Robert  Bu- 
^is;^'^^^         chanan.     8vo.     With  portraits,  price  15s. 

"  A  readable  book,  icith  many  interesting  and  some  thrilling  pages  in 
it." — Athenaeum.  "  From  first  to  last,  the  biography  teems  with  interesting 
adventures,  icith  amusing  or  perilous  incidents,  icith  curiotis  gossip,  icith 
picturesque  description." — Daily  News.  "  Btit,  as  xce  have  said,  Audubon 
could  write  as  well  as  draic ;  and  while  his  portfolio  was  a  cause  of  wonder 
to  even  such  men  as  Cuvier,  Wilson,  and  Sir  2 nomas  Laivrence,  his  diary 
contained  a  number  of  spirited  sketches  of  the  places  he  had  visited,  which 
cannot  fail  to  interest  and  eren  to  delight  the  reader." — Examiner. 


List  of  Publications.  1 1 


Leopold  the  First,  King  of  the  Belgians;  from  unpublished 
documents,  by  Theodore  Juste.     Translated  by  Robert  Black,  M.A. 

"  A  readable  biography  of  the  icise  and  good  King  Leopold  is  certain  to 
be  read  in  Fngland." — Daily  News.  "  A  more  important  contribution  to 
historical  literature  has  not  for  n  long  while  been  furnished." — l-ielTs 
Messenger.  "  Uf  great  value  to  the  future  historian,  and  icill  interest 
politicians  even  now." — Spectator.  "  The  subject  is  of  interest,  and  the 
story  is  narrated  icifhout  excess  of  enthimasm  or  depreciation.  The  trans- 
lation by  Mr.  Black  is  executed  usifh  correctness,  yet  not  %citho7it  a  grarc- 
fid  ease.  This  end  is  not  often  attained  in  translations  so  nearly  verbal  as 
this ;  the  book  itself  deserves  to  become  popular  in  England." — Athenaeum. 

Fredrika  Bremer's  Life,  Letters,  and  Posthumous  Works. 
Edited  by  her  sister,  Charlotte  Bremer;  translated  from  the  Swedish 
by  Fred.  Milow.     Post  8vo.  cloth.     10s.  Qd. 

The   Rise  and  Fall  of  the   Emperor   Maximilian  :  an  Authentic 

History  of  the  Mexican  Empire,  1861-7.  Together  with  the  Imperial 
Correspondence.     Vv"ith  Portrait,  8vo.  price  10s.  Qd. 

Madame  Recamier,  ^Memoirs  and  Correspondence  of.  Trans- 
lated from  the  French  and  edited  by  J.  M.  Luyster.  With  Portrait. 
Crown  Svo.  7s.  &d. 

Plutarch's  Lives.  An  entirely  new  Library  Edition,  carefully 
revised  and  corrected,  vrith  some  Original  Translations  by  the  Editor. 
Edited  by  A.  H.  Clough,  Esq.  sometime  Fellow  of  Oriel  College.  Oxford, 
and  late  Professor  of  English  Language  and  Literature  at  University 
College.     5  vols.  Svo.  cloth.     21.  10s. 

Social  Life  of  the  Chinese:  a  Dr.guerreotype  of  Daily  Life  in 

China.  Condensed  from  the  Work  of  the  Rev.  J.  Donlittle.  by  the  Rev. 
Paxton  Hood.     With  above  100  Illustrations.       Post  8vo.  price  8s._6(Z. 

The  Open  Polar  Sea  :  a  Narrative  of  a  Voyage  of  Discovery 
towards  the  North  Pole.  By  Dr.  Isaac  I.  Hayes.  An  entirely  new  and 
cheaper  edition.     With  Illustrations.     Small  post  Svo.     tjs. 

The  Physical  Geography  of  the  Sea  and  its  Meteorology  ;  or,  the 

Economy  of  the  Sea  and  its  Adaptations,  its  Salts,  its  Waters,  its  Climates, 
its  Inhabitants,  and  whatever  there  may  be  of  general  interest  in  its  Com- 
mercial Uses  or  Industrial  Pursuits.  By  Commander  M.  F.  Maui'y,  LL.D 
New  Edition.     With  Charts.     Post  Svo.  cloth  extra. 

Captain  Hall's  Life  with  the  Esquimaux.  New  and  cheaper 
Edition,  v.-ith  Coloured  Engravings  and  upwards  of  100  Woodcuts.  With 
a  Map.  Price  7s.  M.  cloth  extra.  Forming  the  cheapest  and  most  popu- 
lar Edition  of  a  work  on  Arctic  Life  and  Exploration  ever  published. 

Christian  Heroes  in  the  Army  and  Navy.  By  Charles  Rogers, 
LL.D.  Author  of  "  Lyra  Britannica."     Crown  Svo.  3.s.  M. 

The  Black  Country  and  its  Green  Border  Land  ;  or.  Expedi- 
tions and  Explorations  round  Birmingham,  Wolverhampton,  &c.  By 
Elihu  Burritt.     Second  and  cheaper  edition,  post  Svo.  6s. 

A  Walk  from  London  to  John  O'Groats,  and  from  London  to 
the  Land's  End  and  Back.  With  Notes  by  the  Way.  By  Elihu  Burritt. 
Two  vols,  price  6s.  each,  with  Illustrations. 


12  Sampson  Low  and  Co.^s 


The  Voyacre  Alone ;  a  Sail  in  the  "  Yawl,  Rob  Roy."    By  John 
M'Gregor.     With  Illustrations.     Price  5s. 

Also,  uniform,  by  the  same  Author,  icith  Maps  and  rMmcrous  Illus- 
trations, price  OS.  each. 

A  Thoasand  Miles  in  the  Rob  Roy  Canoe,  on   Rivers    and  Lakes   of 
Europe.     Fifth  edition. 

The  Rob  R07  on  the  Baltic.     A  Canoe  Voyage  in  Norway,  Sweden,  &c. 

NEW    BOOKS    FOR    YOUNG    PEOPLE. 

I^ILD  Life  under  the  Equator.     By  Paul  Du  Chailln, 
'^'^  Author   of  "  Discoveries   in   Equatorial  Africa."     With  40 

Original  Illustrations,  price  6s. 

"  31.  du  Chnillu's  name  icill  be  a  sufficient  guarantee  for  the  interest  of 
Wild  Life  laider  the  Equator,  rchich  he  has  narrated/or  young  yeople  in 
a  very  readable  volume." — Times.  "  M  Du  Chaillu  proves  a  good  uriter 
for  the  young,  and  he  has  skilfully  utilized  his  experience  for  their  benefit." 
— Economist.  "  The  author  possesses  an  vnmense  advantage  over  other 
icr  iters  of  Adventures  for  boys,  and  this  is  secure  for  a  pojjular  run:  it 
IS  at  once  light,  racy,  and  attractive." — Illustrated  Times. 

Also  by  the  same  Author,  uniform. 

Stories  of  the  Gorilla  Country,  36  Illustrations.     Price  6s. 

"  It  tcould  be  hard  tof?id  a  more  interesting  book  for  boys  than  this.'" — 
Times.  "  Young  people  icill  obtain  from  it  a  very  considerable  amount 
of  information  touching  the  maytners  and  customs,  icays  and  means  of 
Africans,  and  of  course  great  amusement  in  the  accmmts  of  the  Gorilla. 
The  book  is  really  a  meritorious  icork,  and  is  elegantly  got  up." — Athenaeum. 

Cast  Away  in  the  Cold.  An  Old  Man's  Story  of  a  You nof  Man's 
Adventures.  By  the  Author  of"  The  Open  Polar  Sea."  With  Illus- 
trations.    Small  8vo.  cloth  extra,  price  6s. 

'•  The  result  is  delightful.  A  story  of  adventure  of  the  most  telling 
local  colour  and  detail,  the  most  exciting  itanger,  and  ending  uith  the  most 
natural  and  effective  escape.  There  is  an  air  of  veracity  and  reality 
about  the  tale  which  Cajjt.  Hayes  could  scarcely  help  giving  to  an  Arctic 
adventure  of  any  kind.  There  is  great  vivaci'y  and  picturesqueness  in 
the  style,  the  illustrations  are  admirable,  and  there  is  a  novelty  in  the 
'  denouement'  which  greatly  enhances  the  pleasure  with  uhich  ice  lay  the 
book  down.  This  story  of  the  two  Arctic  Crusoes  will  long  remain  one  of 
the  most  powerfid  of  children' s  stories,  as  it  assuredly  deserves  to  be  one 
of  the  most  popular." — Spectator. 

The  Silver  Skates;  a  Story  of  Holland  Life.  By  Mrs.  M.  A. 
Dodge.    Edited  by  W.  H.  G.  Kingston.     Illustrated,  cioth  extra,  3s.  M. 

The  Voyage  of  the  Constance :  a  tale  of  the  Polar  Seas.     By 

Mary" Gillies.     With  8  Illustrations  by  Charles  Keene.     Fcap.  3s.  6d. 


List  of  Pub  lica  tions.  1 3 

Life  amongst  the  North  and  South  American  Indians.  By 
George  Catlin.  And  Last  Rambles  amongst  the  Indians  beyond  the 
Rocky  Mountains  and  the  Andes.  With  numerous  lllastratious  by  the 
Author.    2  vols,  small  post  8vo.  6s.  each,  cloth  extra. 

"An  admirable  hook,  full  of  useful  infurmation,  vsrapt  up  in  stories 
peculiarly  acUipted  to  rouse  the  imagination  and  stimtdnte  the  curiosity  of 
boys  and  girls.  To  compare  a  book  with  '  Robinson  Crusoe'  and  to  say 
thjit  it  sxistaitis  such  comparison,  is  to  give  it  high  praise  indeed." — 
Athenaeum. 

Our  Salt  and  Fresh  Water  Tutors  ;  a  Story  of  that  Good  Old 
Time— Our  School  Days  at  the  Cape.  Edited  by  W.  H.  G.  Kingston. 
With  Illustrations,  price  'is.  6fi^. 

"  One  of  the  best  books  of  the  kind  that  the  season  has  given  us.  This 
little  book  is  to  be  commended  warmly." — Illustrated  Times. 

The  Boy's  Own  Book  of  Boats.     A  Description  of  every  Craft 

that  sails  upon  the  waters  ;  and  how  to  Make,  Rig,  and  Sail  Model 
Boats,  by  W.  H.  G.  Kingston,  with  numerous  Illustrations  by  E.  Weedon. 
Second  edition,  enlarged.     Fcap.  8vo.  -is.  6d. 

"  This  well-written,  well-icrought  book." — Athenaeum. 

Also  by  the  same  Author, 
Ernest  Bracebridge  :  or.  Boy's  Own  Book  of  Sports.     3s.  6d. 
The  Fire  Ships.     A  Story  of  the  Days  of  Lord  Cochrane.     5s. 
The  Cruise  of  the  Frolic.     .5s. 
Jack  Buutline :  the  Life  of  a  Sailor  Boy.     2s. 

The  Autobiography  of  a  Small  Boy.  By  the  Author  of  '*'  School 
Days  at  Saxonhurst."     Fcap.  Svo.  cloth,  os.  [pearly  ready. 

Also  noic  ready. 
Alwyn  Morton,  his  School  and  his  Schoolfellows.     .5s. 
Stanton  Grange;  or,  Life  at  a  Tutor's.     By  the  Rev.  C.  J.  Atkinson.  .5s. 

Phenomena  and  Laws  of  Heat :  a  Volume  of  Marvels  of  Science. 
By  Achille  Cazin.  Translated  and  Edited  by  Eliha  Rich.  With 
numerous  Illustrations.     Fcap.  Svo.  price  os. 

Aho,  uniform,  same  price. 

:Marvels  of  Optics.     By  F.  Marion.     Edited  and  Translated  by  C.  W. 
Quin.     With  70  Illustrations.     5s. 

Marvels  of  Thunder  and  Lightning.     By  De  Fonvielle.     Edited  by  Dr. 
Phipson.     Full  of  illustrations.     5s. 

Sti)ries  of  the  Great  Prairie.  From  the  Novels  of  J.  F.  Cooper. 
Illustrated.     Brice  .5s. 

Also,  uniform,  same  price. 
Stories  of  the  Woods,  from  the  Adventures  of  Leather-Stocking. 
Stories  of  the  Sea.  from  Cooper's  Naval  Novels. 
The  Voyage  of  the  Constance.     By  Mary  Gillies.     -3s.  6d. 
The  Swiss  Family  Robinson,  and  Sequel.     In  I  vol.     3s.  6d. 
The  Story  Without  an  End.     Translated  by  Sarah  Austin.     2s.  6d. 


14  Sampson  Low  and  Co,*s 

Under  the  Waves ;  or  the  Hermit  Crab  in  Society.  By  Annie 
E.  Ridley.     Impl.  16mo.  cloth  extra,  with  coloured  illustration      Cloth, 

4s. ;  gilt  edges,  4s.  6d. 

Also  beautifully  Illustrated : — 

Little  Bird  Red  and  Little  Bird  Blue.     Coloured,  5s. 
Snow-Flakes,  and  what  they  told  the  Children.     Coloured,  5s. 
Child's  Book  of  the  Sagacity  of  Animals.    5s. ;  or  coloured,  7s.  6cL 
Child's  Picture  Fable  Book.     5s.  ;  or  coloured,  7s.  Gd. 
Child's  Treasury  of  Story  Books.     5s. ;  or  coloured,  7s.  6a!. 
The  Nursery  Playmate.     200  Pictures.    5s. ;  or  coloured,  9s. 

Adventures  on  the  Great  Huntins^-Grounds  of  the  World.  From 

the  Frence  of  Victor  Meunier.  With  additional  miitter,  including  the 
Duke  of  Edinburgh's  Elephant  Hunt,  &c.  With  22  Engravings, 
price  5s. 

"  The  book  for  all  boys  in  vhom  the  love  of  travel  and  adventure  is 
strong.  They  will  find  here  ylenty  to  amuse  them  and  much  to  instruct 
them  besides." — Times. 

Also,  lately  published. 
One  Thousand  Miles  in  the  Rob  Roy  Canoe.  By  John  Macgregor,  M.A.  5s. 
The  Rob  Roy  on  the  Baltic.     By  the  same  Author.    5s. 
Sailing  Alone;  or,  1,500  Miles  Voyage  in  the  Yawl  Rob  Roy.     By  the 

same  Author.     5s. 
Golden  Hair;  aTaleof  the  Pilgrim  Fathers.  BySir Lascelles  Wraxall.  5s. 
Black  Panther  :  a  Boy's  Adventures  amongst  the  Red  Skins.     By  the 

same  Author.     5s. 

Anecdotes  of  the  Queen  and  Royal  Family  of  Ent^land.  Collected , 
arranged,  and  edited,  for  the  more  especial  use  of  Colonial  Readers,  by 
J.  George  Hodgins,  LL.B  ,  F.R.G.S.,  Deputy  Superintendent  of  Educa- 
tion for  the  Province  of  Ontario.     With  Illustrations.    Price  5s. 

Geog^-aphy  for  my  Children.     By  IMrs.  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe. 

Author  of  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  &c.  Arranged  and  Edited  by  an  Eng- 
lish Lady,  under  the  Direction  of  the  Authoress.  With  upwards  of  Fifty 
Illustrations.     Cloth  extra,  4s.  6rf. 

Child's  Play.  Elustrated  with  Sixteen  Coloured  Drawings  by 
E.  V.  B.,  printed  in  fac-simile  by  W.  Dickes'  process,  and  ornamented 
with  Initial  Letters.  New  edition,  with  India  paper  tints,  royal  8vo. 
cloth  extra,  bevelled  cloth,  7s.  Gd.  The  Original  Edition  of  this  work 
was  published  at  One  Guinea. 

Little  Gerty  ;  or,  the  First  Prayer,  selected  and  abridged  from 
"  The  Lamplighter."  By  a  Lady.  Price  Gd.  Particularly  adapted 
for  a  Sunday  School  Gift  Book. 

Great  Fun  and  More  Fun  for  our  Little  Friends.  By  Harriet 
Myrtle.    With  Edward  Wehnert's  Pictures.    2  vols,  each  5s. 


List  of  Publications.  15 


BELLES    LETTRES,    FICTION,    &c. 

^^^HE  LOG  OF  MY  LEISUKE  HOURS:    a  Story  of 

^'i  I  v^      ^'^'^^  ^if**-     ^y  "^^  ^^^  Sailor.     3  vols,  post  8vo.  2ls. 

U0J&  '^  If  people  do  not   read  ^  The  Log'  it  icill  have  failed  as 

w"iJ         regards  tfiem ;  but  it  is  a  success  in  every  sense  of  the  word  as 
regards  its  author.     It  desei-ves  to  succeed." — Morning  Post. 

David  Gray  ;  and  other  Essays,  chiefly  on  Poetry.  By  Eubert 
Buchanan.     In  one  vol.  fcap.  8vo.  price  6s. 

The  Book  of  the  Simnet;  being  Selections,  with  an  Essay  on 

Sonnets  and  Soaneteers.  By  the  late  Leigh  llunt.  Edited,  Irom  the 
origiual  MS.  with  Additions,  byS.  Adams  Lee.  2  vols,  price  IS*. 
.^,  "  Heading  a  book  of  this  sort  should  make  2is  feel  proud  of  our  language 
and  of  our  literature,  and  proud  also  of  that  cultivated  common  nature 
which  can  raise  so  many  noble  thoughts  and  images  out  of  this  hard,  sullen 
world  into  a  thousand  enduring  forms  of  beauiy.  The  '  Book  of  the  Son- 
net '  should  be  a  classic,  and  the  professor  as  well  as  the  student  of  English 
will  find  it  a  work  of  deep  interest  and  completeness." — Loudon  Keview. 

Lyra  Sacra  Americana:  Gems  of  American  Poetry,  selected 
with  Notes  and  Biographical  Sketches  by  C.  D.  Cleveland,  D.D.,  Author 
of  the  "  Milton  Concoraauce."     15mo.,  cloth,  gilt  edges.     Price  4s.  M,. 

Poems  of  the  Inner  Life,  Selected  chiefly  from  modern  Authurs, 
by  permission.     Small  post  8vo.  65. ;  gilt  edges,  *5s.  6d. 

English  and  Scotch  Ballads,  &c.  An  extensive  Collection. 
With  Notices  of  the  kindred  Ballads  of  other  Nations.  Edited  by  F.  J. 
Child.     8  vols.  leap,  cloth,  bs.  6d.  each 

The  Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast  Table.  By  Oliver  Wendell 
Holmes,  LL.D.  Popular  Edition,  Is.  Illustrated  Edition,  choicely 
printed,  cloth  extra,  6s. 

The  Professor  at  the  Breakfast  Table.  By  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes, 
Author  of  "  The  Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast-Table."  Cheap  Edition, 
leap.  3s.  i5d. 

Bee-keeping.  By  "  The  Times  "  Bee-master.  Small  post  Svo. 
numerous  illustrations,  cloth,  os. 

"  Our  friend  the  Bee-master  has  the  knack  of  exposition,  and  knotcs  how 
to  tell  a  story  well ;  over  and  above  which,  he  tHls  a  stoiy  so  that  thousands 
can  take  a  practical,  and  not  merely  a  speculative  interest  in  it." — Times. 

Queer  Little  People.      By  the  Author  of  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin." 
Fcap.     Is.     Also  by  the  same  Author. 
The  Little  Foxes  that  Spoil  the  Grapes,  Is. 
House  and  Home  Papers,  Is. 

The  Pearl  of  Orr's  Island,  Illustrated  by  Gilbert,  bs. 
The  Minister's  Wooing.     Illustrated  by  Phiz,  bs. 


16        Sampson  Low  and  Co.'s  List  of  Publications. 

The  Story  of  Four  Little  Women :  Meg,  Joe,  Beth,  and  Amy. 
By  Louisa  M.  Alcott.     With   Illustrations.      16mo,  cloth  Ss.  M. 

"  A  bright,  cheerful,  healthy  story—with  a  tinc/e  of  thoughtful  gravity 
about  it  xchich  reminds  one  of  John  Bunyan.  Meg  going  to  J'anity  Fair 
is  a  chapter  written  with  great  cleverness  and  a  jjleusant  humour."— 
Guardian. 

Also,  Entertaining  Stories  for  Young  Ladies,  3s.  &d.  each,  cloth,  gilt  edges. 
Helen  Felton's  Question  :  a  Book  for  Girls.     By  Agnes  Wylde. 
Faith  Gartuey's  Girlhood.     By  jNIrs.  D.  T.  Whitney.     Seventh  thousand. 
The  Gayworthys.     By  the  same  Author,     'third  Edition. 
A  Summer  in  Leslie  Goldthwaite's  Lite.     By  the  same  Author. 
The  Masque  at  Ludlow.     By  the  Author  of"  I\Iary  Powell." 
Miss  Biddy  Frobisher;  a  Salt  Water  Story.     By  the  same  Author. 
Selvaggio;  a  Story  of  Italy.  By  the  same  Author.    New  Edition. 
The  Journal  of  a  Waiting  Gentlewoman.   By  a  new  Author.   New  Edition. 
The  Shady  Side  and  the  Sunny  Side.     Two  Tales  of  New  England. 

Marian ;  or,  the  Light  of  Some  One's  Home.     By  Maud  Jeanne 
Franc.     Small  post  Svo,,  5s. 

Aho,  by  the  same  Author. 
Emily's  Choice  :  an  Australian  Tale.     bs. 
Vei'mont  Vale  :  or.  Home  Pictures  in  Australia.     5s. 

Tauchnitz's  English  Editions  of  German  Authors.    Each  volume 
cloth  flexible,  2s. ;  or  sewed.  Is.  6rf.     The  following  are  now  ready  : — 

1.  On  the  Fleights.     By  B.  Auerbach.     3  vols. 

2.  In  the  Year  '13.     By  Fritz  Reuter.     1  vol. 

3.  Faust.     By  Goethe.     1  vol. 

4.  Undine,  and  other  Tales.     By  Fouque.     1  vol. 
5    L'Arrabiata.     By  Paul  Heyse.     I  vol. 

6.  The  Princess,  and  other  Tales.     By  Heinrieh  Zschokke.     I  vol. 

7.  Lessing's  Nathan  the  Wise. 

8.  Hacklauder's  Behind  the  Counter,  translated  by  Mary  Howitt. 

Low's   Copyright  Ci^.eap   Editions  of  American  Authors.      A 

thoroughly  good  and  cheap  series  of  editions,  which,  whilst  combining 
every  advautiige  that  can  be  secured  by  tlie  best  workmanship  at  the 
lowest  possible  rate,  will  possess  an  additional  claim  on  the  reading 
public  by  providing  for  the  remuneration  of  the  American  author  and 
the  legal  protection  of  the  English  publisher.     Ready  : — 

1.  Haunted  Hearts.     By  the  Author  of"  The  Lamplighter." 

2.  The  Guardian  Angel.     By  •'  The  Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast  Table." 

3.  The  Minister's  Wooing.     By  the  Author  of  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin." 

To  be  followed  by  a  New  Volume  on  the  first  of  every  alternate  month. 
Each  complete  in  itself,  printed  from  new  type,  with  Initial  Letters  and  Orna- 
ments, and  published  at  the  low  price  of  Is.  Qd.  stiff  cover,  or  2s.  cloth. 


LONDON:    SAMPSON    LOW,   SON,    AND    MARSTON, 

CROWN  BUILDINGS,  188,  FLEET  STREET. 

English,  American,  and  Colonial  Booksellers  and  Publishers. 

Chiswick  Pre.«s:— Whittingham  and  Wilkins.  Tooks  Court,  Chancery  Lane. 


::':W' 


